Long Moments
by Cicero
Summary: This story is meant to be of a companion piece to HBP, starring harry and Ginny. Chapter 7 now up! All the months of yearning come to an end as Harry and Ginny come together to realize their destiny.
1. Chapter 1: Summer at the Burrow

_A/N: This story is meant to be a companion piece to HBP. I loved that Ginny and harry got together, but felt that JKR could have done more with the relationship. This is my attempt to expand on the story... fill in the blanks if you will. My aim is to make it so that, when they actually do get together, it will seem like the most inevitable and natural thing in the whole world. Enjoy!_

Chapter 1 takes place shortly after the trip to Diagon Ally.  


**Chapter 1: Summer at the Burrow**

"G'night Ron," Harry Potter groaned as he slid into bed.

"Er, g'night Harry," Ron replied, his voice a little shaky. "Um… How's your head?"

Harry winced. He raised a hand to the purplish bruise growing out of his forehead right next to his famous lightning-shaped scar. It pulsed sharply under his touch.

"It's been better."

He turned to look at Ron who sat hunched over on the edge of his bed, a glum expression on his usually cheerful face.

"Sorry… but I really thought you were going to catch it!"

"Yeah I know… don't make a big deal out of it." Harry rubbed the bruise gingerly and lay his head on the lumpy pillow. He stared up at the rickety wooden ceiling of the room wondering how he had ever let Ron convince him to enchant a watermelon as a quaffle.

"Seriously Harry?" Ron asked as he threw himself back onto his mattress. "Cos, you know, I don't want you to be mad at me or anything…"

Harry smiled a little. "Yeah, no problem."

"Okay," Ron muttered as he drifted off to sleep. "See you tomorrow."

"Right."

As Ron's soft breathing slowly transformed into full blown snores, Harry pondered the events of the afternoon's quidditch match, puzzling at the injury he received. It wasn't as if it was the first time they played using watermelons, although it would definitely be the last, but what got him was how he could have missed catching the thing.

He remembered scoring the winning goal for is team, which consisted solely of he and Hermione, and celebrating with her beating the team of Ron and Ginny. He remembered sniggering at Hermione's surprised expression and uncaring '_We won?'_ as she sat on her broomstick. He remembered hugging her briefly, congratulating her for not really doing anything anyway. He remembered Ginny rushing up to him as she called out declarations of vengeance; her hair catching the fading light of the afternoon sun; her dark brown eyes sparkling in mischievous joy; that one fiery lock she brushed away from her face…

He remembered turning to Ron who had, for some reason, shouted '_catch!'_ He remembered the watermelon as it got bigger and closer and bigger…

Then he didn't remember much at all.

Still, it was a fun day, one of the last carefree days before he would have to go back to school and he felt that a small bruise was a small price to pay for an afternoon of quidditch with his friends. Besides, Ron had felt so bad that he convinced his mom to cook Harry's favorite dish for dinner. The treacle pudding was exceptional that night, so much so that he was perfectly able to ignore the twins calling him 'melon-head'.

Ron gave a loud snort as he turned over on his side. Harry sighed and thought of the summer that had past. He could not remember any summer he had enjoyed as much as this one. He had come to think of the burrow as home. No matter what would happen in the future, he would forever take this summer with him: Mrs. Weasley's tasty breakfast; the warmth of the fire embracing him as he played exploding snaps with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny; the quiet that pervaded his soul as he stood contemplating the lake…

He looked around at Hedwig slumbering in her cage in the corner. Her snowy white head was tucked under her wing and she shivered slightly in the cold.

He smiled.

Hedwig was the one constant in his life; his first introduction into the wonders of a world he never dreamed could exist. And he knew that Hedwig would be with him forever.

"Good night, Hedwig."

With a sigh, Harry turned over and pressed his pillow against his ear to drown out Ron's snores. As he drifted off to sleep, he tried to turn his thoughts to the coming school term, but somehow kept getting caught on images of fiery red sunsets.

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Harry found himself walking through a darkly swirling, smoky mist. Dressed in his quidditch robes, he walked blindly onward. He could not see five feet beyond him, so he tried to feel his way with his hands.

"Hello?" His voice echoed in the darkness.

He groped along his robes, searching for his wand. Finding it in his pocket, he pulled it out and tried to cast a spell… but he couldn't remember a single one. In the distance, a wolf cried out.

"Pro-professor Lupin?"

No one responded. Instead, he felt a cold current swirl around his legs. He stopped suddenly and stood stock still. He heard crunching gravel behind him. It was getting louder. Now it was beside him. Now it was in front of him.

He couldn't see.

He could hear it.

Closer.

Closer…

Then he heard something else: a scream, high and clear. Someone was in pain… dying.

The crunching drew closer. He held his wand out with a shaky hand.

"Exp… expact… expe…" He couldn't remember.

A shadow loomed before him and he dropped his wand.

"Harry…"

Dumbledore stood in front of him, tall and strong. He looked down at Harry with his clear blue eyes peaking through his half-moon glasses. A smile played on his lips, peeking out from under his bushy moustache.

_"Harry," he called. His voice was soft and airy, as if coming from a great distance away. _

_"Professor?" he asked, at the same time relieved and confused. "What's happening?"_

_"Prepare, Harry…" Dumbledore said in that same ethereal voice. Harry's eyes widened in shock as, slowly, Dumbledore's face began to melt. _

_"Prepare…" His voice choked off with a strangled croak._

_"No…Professor… NO!"_

Harry awoke with a start, lunging up and reaching for some intangible vision that faded immediately from his grasp

"No…" he whispered. But it was gone.

He buried his face in his hand, sweat pouring down his face as he tried to remember the terrifying vision that invaded his peace. Something about Dumbledore… But no… it was gone.

He shoved his glasses onto his face and turned to look out the window. It was one of those exceptionally clear summer nights, cloudless and stark, where the stars blanketed the sky with their brilliance. The moon hung low in the sky, silver and comforting.

"I need to take a walk," he muttered. He swung his legs off of his bed and winced as the floorboards creaked under his weight. He froze as Ron snorted and shifted. When Ron didn't wake, Harry rushed downstairs throwing on a ratty Chudley Cannons t-shirt.

As he stepped through the Burrow's front door, he smiled as a gust of clear, fresh air flowed around him. He inhaled the scents of the trees and the grass, and felt immensely better. He stood on the porch, leaned on the railing, and felt his head clear.

"Wotcher Harry," came a sullen voice from behind him. Harry spun around.

Nymphadora Tonks, her hair still a mousy shade of brown, sat quietly in the shadows. She peered up at him with sad, sad eyes.

"Going somewhere?" she asked with a tired voice.

"Um, yeah… going for a walk."

"Want company? I'm supposed to be watching you… but you should be safe here…"

"No, I'm fine…"

She nodded.

"Don't go far." She sniffed a little, a plaintive gesture that made her look even younger.

She looked up at him.

"Nice night, yeah?" she said softly.

"Um…"

"Yeah… the moon's lovely."

And with that, she sobbed.

"love…" (sniff) "lovely…"

"Uh… Tonks?" Harry hesitated for a moment, then began to approach her tentatively. "Are you, uh, alright?"

Tonks whipped out a bright blue handkerchief and blew noisily into it. With her other hand, she waved Harry away.

"Yes, yes… go… I 'll be…"

She gave a small wail.

Harry stepped back in shock and she continued to waive him away.

Harry walked off slowly more than just a little confused. For as long as he could remember knowing her (which admittedly wasn't very long), Tonks was always so vibrant and chipper. He considered her for a moment longer, but as he walked down the gravel path, he heard something that penetrated his thoughts. He raised his head sharply, searching for the source of the sound. It was a voice… a girl's voice… soft and low. It sounded like it was coming from the lake.

Harry spun on his heels and set of down the path toward the lake. He entered a small thicket of trees and strained harder to hear the voice. It was singing. Harry couldn't quite make out the words, but the tune was slow, elegant… mournful.

He broke free from the trees and found he had a clear view down to the lake. He saw a lithe, slender figure standing at the edge of the water with her back to him. Harry gulped. If the voice had not been enough, the vision before him left no doubt at all that the singer was female.

She had long flowing hair that fanned across lean shoulders. Slender arms wrapped around her supple form. Harry figured that she did this for warmth, seeing as the thin, threadbare night robe that clung winningly to her probably did nothing for her. The moonlight glinted off her shimmering hair, which danced every so often on a gust of wind.

She sang on in dulcet tones. She sang a song of loss, of yearning, of love. Harry's heart wrenched in his chest.

Harry blinked and wondered what Fleur Delacouer was doing singing such a sad song at this time of night. He contemplated just leaving her, but figured that maybe she needed a friend. With his heart pounding painfully in his ears and his cheeks feeling warmer than freshly baked bread, Harry stepped closer.

As he drew nearer, he rehearsed what he would say; what greeting he would use, what tone he would speak in, whether he would call her "Fleur" or "Ms. Delacouer" or…

Wait. Silver. Her hair wasn't silver. The silver moonlight cast shadows on her hair masking its color. But it was definitely not silver. No… it was much darker…

"Fleur?" he whispered nervously.

The girl abruptly stopped singing. The silence was actually deafening.

Harry's heart pounded harder.

The girl raised her head and turned slightly. Her profile was…

She turned to look at him.

It was Ginny.

"Ginny?" his eyes widened in shock. He stared at her openly, and as another gust of wind picked up, he could definitely see how cold it was.

"Harry?" Ginny squeaked. "What are you…"

She followed his gaze and looked down. Blushing furiously, she wrapped her arms around herself again.

Harry continued walking, feeling, once again, a little bewildered. "I heard…"

She turned her face down and away. "Oh… I was just…"

"Ummm…"

"Er…"

She looked up at him again. The two stared at each other. Beyond her freckled shoulder, Harry could see the water rippling in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted loudly.

"So," Harry squeezed out. "What you doing?"

Ginny bit her lower lip, seemingly wrestling with something in her head. She looked away. "Well… um… I was just… thinking."

"Thinking!" Harry said brightly. "Yeah… I can do thinking!"

Ginny giggled and looked at him. Her embarrassment seemed to have gone, replaced by a twinkling mischief. "Really?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not much proof of THAT, huh?"

Harry snorted. "Haha. Funny."

"Wanna join me?" She asked.

"Sure. I need to clean my head."

"Dirty thinking much?"

"Oh, stop."

"Nope. Never." She poked him hard in the ribs when he came to stand beside her. "Remember, I owe you for stealing that waterme… I mean 'quaffle' from me earlier."

"Nah, I didn't steal that. You dropped it. Butterfingers."

"Melon head!"

"Pygmypuff!"

"Nerdbrain!"

"Nerdbrain? You mean… Hermione?"

They collapsed on the soft grass, sharing a strangely comforting laughing fit.

"So," Harry said as he rubbed his eyes and sat up. "What were you thinking about anyway?"

Ginny gave one last chuckle and brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. "Well… lots of things really."

"Like what?" He reached down, looking for a suitable skipping stone.

"Harry," her voice went soft again. She sat up and looked at him. "Last year…"

"Yeah?" he threw a stone. It skipped twice before sinking. Not bad.

"Did you kiss Cho?" She stretched her legs out and examined her toes.

He shifted uncomfortably. He had always thought everyone knew by now. "Uh… yeah."

"Oh."

He cast a sidelong glance at her. "Why do you ask?"

"How was it?" Her voice was light.

"Um…" her turned away. "Wet."

She spun on him. "Wet?"

"Yeah… she was crying I think."

"Oh."

She picked up a stone of her own and flicked it. _Skip! Skip! Skip! Skip! Skip! Plunk._

"Nice throw," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Uh-hmmm. Did you like it?" Her voice was soft.

"What, the kiss? Um… yes... and… no?"

She pursed her lips. "Um… what?"

"Well… I did have a crush on her. But… I don't know. I guess even then, I knew that it just wasn't…" He let his voice trail off. What was she getting at?

"Oh."

"Ginny," Harry said. "What…?"

"Well," she muttered. "Dean asked me to kiss him."

"What? He's here?" Harry didn't quite know what to think about this new bit of information. Dean Thomas? And Ginny? Kissing?

"Wha…? No, no. He asked me by owl."

Harry shocked himself by feeling a little annoyed at this.

"And… what did you say?" He kept his voice carefully controlled.

"Nothing yet. I'm not sure I want to."

Odd. Harry felt… happy? "Er… why?"

Even in the moonlight, Harry could see that Ginny blushed furiously. "I've never kissed anyone before."

"Not even Michael Corner?" Harry was a little surprised. Relieved, for some reason, but surprised.

"No, no. It just didn't feel right with Michael."

"Do you… like Dean?"

She smiled sadly at him. "I'm going out with him, aren't I?"

"No, yeah I know, but do you really like him?"

"I… guess? I don't know." She laid back down on the soft earth and drew her legs up. Harry joined her as silence fell over them. He gazed into the sky. The stars really were beautiful in their majesty. He caught a glimpse of the star _Sirius_ and smiled a little.

"Harry…" Ginny's voice was gentle. "Kissing Cho…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it helps?"

Harry puzzled over it for a second. "Helps what?"

"You know… for the next time. Do you think it was good practice for your next, you know, kiss?"

Harry didn't know quite what to say about that. "Um, I guess. I was really nervous kissing Cho. It was my first time after all."

He shifted onto his side to look at here. He studied her profile; the soft lines of her cheek and the pert upturn of her nose. The freckles splayed across the bridge of her nose like the stars in the sky.

He cleared his throat. "Next time should be better, now that I know how to and all."

Ginny turned to him and her deep brown eyes blazed as she stared deep into his.

"Okay." She smiled; a strange smile, mischievous and hopeful.

"Okay." Harry said softly.

"So." She turned back to the heavens. "What was troubling you?"

Harry sighed and frowned. "A dream. Just a… dream."

"Okay." She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed. She lifted her arms behind her head, cushioning against the ground. "Wanna talk about it?"

Harry closed his eyes and tried desperately to recall the dream. He only saw fragments: the silver fog, the howling wolf, Dumbledore…

"I… No, it was just a dumb nightmare."

"Okay…" She said sleepily. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Okay." Harry listened as Ginny's breathing turned into soft snores. Maybe it was the night air, maybe it was the water gently lapping against the shore, maybe it was the stars… Harry didn't now what it was that was making him feel at peace. He tried to grasp for it one more time. He almost had it… and a growing chill struck him as he felt the fear slowly coming back…

But then a gust of wind blew across the pair and Ginny turned and pressed her face against his chest in her sleep. All at once, the dark cloud hovering just on the edge of his consciousness lifted. His breathing slowed then, keeping in gentle rhythm with Ginny's. As she nestled her fiery red hair under his chin, he let go of the fear and the uncertainty and inhaled the sweet, summery scent of flowers lingering on her skin.


	2. Chapter 2: End of Summer

CHAPTER 2: End of Summer 

Dawn broke on the burrow, bringing with it the slight chill that lingered overnight indicating that summer, at last, was nearly over. Warm orange tones climbed over the horizon, sending tendrils of light edging along fields of verdant grass. As these fingers of light danced their way merrily towards the house, creatures of all sizes crept out of their holes and looked up at the clear morning sky, searching for anything from food to a sense of purpose.

One area of the burrow not yet touched by the morning light still dwelt in that mystifying twilight realm that borders the night and the day. Nestled deep in the shadows of looming trees, the lake awoke to find two more inhabitants than normal. Entwined in each other's unsuspecting arms, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley slept the sleep of the just, unaware and uncaring of the world around them.

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Ginny woke slowly from a vivid dream she had about unicorns flying on broomsticks. A shaft of sunlight broke through the canopy of trees bordering the lake and fell gently on her sleepy face. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she smiled and stretched her long, sinewy limbs out.

Or at least she tried to.

Her left arm moved quite easily, stretching with a satisfying set of creaks and pops. But her right arm was trapped under something warm and heavy and warm and soft and warm…

She was curled up around something, pressed tight against…

Her eyes widened.

Harry.

She raised her head and stared at the still sleeping face of Harry Potter; at his glasses lying carelessly askew; at the swollen purple bruise just now beginning to fade; at the slight smirk that always lived just there, at the corner of his lips. His eyes were closed, still shielding his thoughts and his soul from a world that demanded so much from him. Here, under her hand, beat his heart… slowly, gently, kindly…

Ginny smiled. This felt so right to her, utterly, and completely right. When she had come down to the lake the night before, she thought the night would go as it always had; with her spending just a couple of hours alone, allowing herself to dream and to hope, and to imagine a life beyond Hogwarts… beyond the expectations that life saddled her with.

She gently leaned her head on Harry's chest. In his sleep, he drew her closer.

But she could forget about her troubles for now. Harry was here. In him, she found strength, and although she didn't know whether she could ever face him without blushing, even internally, she felt safe. Here, on the green dewy grass, she could forget about Ron and Percy and mum. She could forget about Voldemort and Snape and Yolanda Dareth the backstabbing git. She could forget about the fact that, every night, as sleep crept up on her, she could hear Tom Riddle's voice calling her… cutting her… killing her… taking her.

Harry was here.

He shifted quietly under her and she once again silently thanked Ron for deciding to sit with him in his first year. Without Ron, she would never have found him.

She hugged him tighter. She felt herself drift towards the blessed lands of sleep once again and turned her thoughts to the coming year. She would go to Hogsmeade with him. She would shyly hold his hand as they strolled the grounds counting the owls flying overhead. She would touch his cheek and kiss him when they won the quidditch cup. She would sit with him in the Hogwarts Express, laughing and teasing and hoping and yearning…

Her eyes flew open.

Dean. She was with Dean.

With a jerk, she pulled away from Harry and gave a frightened yelp. What was she doing? One night by the lake didn't mean anything… no, Harry and she were friends! Just friends!

Harry slept on under her intense gaze. She felt a strange warmth crawl up her neck and knew that she was blushing again. But what did last night mean? Why did he come down to her? Was he looking for her? And why did he stare at her funny when she asked about kissing?

God… why did she ask about kissing?

Dean. How could she forget?

And what did Harry mean by 'wet?'

And… Dean! But…

But what did Harry mean by 'did she like Dean?' Of course she did! She was going out with him, right? But… why was it that whenever she was with Dean, she always looked over her shoulder to see if Harry was watching. But…

But…

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. "Stop it," she told herself softly. "You've given up on him, right?"

A shadow fell over her and a condescending "ahem!" sounded in her ear. Looking up, Ginny saw the bushy-haired silhouette of the girl who would be her best friend: Hermione Granger. Ginny wasn't all that sure she liked the expression Hermione wore; one eye arched sharply on Hermione's face, and the left corner of her mouth twitched. Mischief that usually belonged to Ginny danced in Hermione's eyes.

"Ahem," she said again. "And just what is going on here?"

Ginny opened her mouth to speak.

"I…"

"HERMIONE!"

Apparently, Harry just woke up.

Ginny looked down at Harry just as he shot up. The crack of their heads colliding resounded clear across the lake. The impact of his rather hard head knocked her back, and as she fell, she thought of two things: Hermione's feet made for remarkably soft cushions, and oh-my-god she hoped her mum wouldn't see them.

And people really did see stars when they hit their heads.

At once both Hermione and Harry peered down at her; a look of pained concern on Harry's face and concerned amusement on Hermione's.

"Ginny!" Harry said urgently. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Arnold," Ginny croaked.

Both Harry and Hermione glanced at each other.

"What?" Harry said.

"Arnold… Hermione… Harry was helping me look for… Arnold…"

Hermione hid her smile. Harry's cheeks blushed red.

"Uh, yeah Hermione. Um… Last night… uh, Ginny came up to our room and said… uh… that Arnold's missing."

Hermione affected a concerned look and crouched down beside Ginny. She slipped a hand under Ginny's head and peered into her eyes. "Oh, really? Escaped out our window, did he Ginny?"

She shot a glance at Harry, slightly annoyed. "Honestly, Harry, you could lend a hand you know."

"Oh… oh yeah." He bent down to her and gently grasped Ginny's forearms. Together, the two helped Ginny up to her feet. The world tilted for a moment before righting itself once again.

"Uh, yeah Hermione," Ginny said. "You know how pygmy puffs are."

"I see. And did you get Ron to help you?

Harry answered.

"Uh, no! He wouldn't wake up. Ginny… uh… Ginny said that Arnold probably went down here… to… uh…"

"He loves the water!" Ginny piped in. She gingerly touched the small bump on her forehead. Waves of pain throbbed through her head. She clicked her tongue and thought of the bruise that was going to form…

"I see," Hermione repeated in that maddeningly knowing tone. "So, you went to Harry last night to ask him for help looking for Arnold, who somehow broke free from his cage and bounded down the long dark path to the lake?"

"Uh…"

"And when you did not find him, you both decided to fall asleep in each other arms… for warmth I suppose… and wait for him to come to you?"

"Uh…"

"And when Arnold finished his 'midnight swim', he of course left you here, bounded back up to our room, slipped back into his cage, pooped on his newspaper, and purred at me to wake me up this morning, right? Because he is there now, you know…"

"Uh… yes?" Ginny said. She and Harry exchanged nervous glances.

Hermione smiled at them smugly. "Well… that sounds just about right then."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. Hermione clucked her tongue and beckoned them towards the house.

"Come on you two," she insisted. "You are both just lucky that I wake up earlier than everyone else. Honestly, if you two are going to start sneaking of with each other…"

"Hey!" Harry and Ginny interjected.

"Come on, come on. Your mum should be waking up any minute now…"

"GINEVERA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Even though they were all the way down by the lake, Mrs. Weasley's scream was loud enough and strong enough to make each of them wince from the pain in their ears. Ginny had to scrunch up her eyes for a second, and when she opened them she saw that Hermione had gone deathly pale and that Harry had gone completely scarlet.

And from the warmth on her neck, she knew that she had too.

"Oh no!" Hermione slapped a hand to her mouth. "I knew we were down here too long! I knew it!"

"Let's go… let's run," Harry said as he began to pick up speed.

Ginny grimaced.

"I don't know what you two are so worried about anyway," she sniffed irritably. "We all know she's only gonna scold one of us…"

But she began to run too.

As they rounded the corner that would bring them to the front door, another shout blasted at them.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY! GET YOURSELF HERE NOW!"

Ginny saw a tall man with a shock of unkempt hair bent over in front of the door. He seemed to have both hands clapped over his ears and a deeply pained expression.

"It's Lupin," Harry said. "Professor!" He called.

Professor Remus Lupin jerked his head up and gave a small grin when the three teens ran up to him.

"Harry," he said softly as he rubbed his ears. "I'm not going to scold you and I'm not going to ask you where you've been, but surely…"

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Ginny winced.

"I better go in there…" she muttered.

Lupin stepped aside and patted her gamely on the shoulder.

"Good luck," he whispered.

As Harry, Hermione, and Ginny entered the house, they were greeted by the sight of the entire Weasley family, sans Percy and plus Fleur Delacouer, gathered around the breakfast table. Each of them wore inscrutable expressions on their faces and cotton wads stuck in their ears.

A furiously red faced Mrs. Weasley stood up slowly from the table.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley," she said in a thankfully softer voice. "Where have you been?"

Ginny bit her lower lip and felt a familiar surge of annoyance.

"Nowhere! Just down to the lake…"

"Nowhere!" Mrs. Weasley scowled at her. "I wake up this morning, make a delicious breakfast, knock on your door, and what do I find?"

Beside Ginny, Harry and Hermione began to shift nervously.

"TWO EMPTY BEDS!" Mrs. Weasley hollered. "What were you thinking girl? And Harry's bed! Empty! Imagine, my daughter taking poor Hermione and dear Harry with her on whatever foolishness she planned…"

Harry raised his head and began to speak.

"Mrs. Weasley, I…"

A look of pure gentleness came over Mrs. Weasley's face. "Oh, you don't have to cover for her Harry dear. Lord knows what trouble she could have gotten you into."

Ginny scowled and folded her arms crossly.

"Mum," she said petulantly. "That's not fair! You ALWAYS pick on me! I never…"

"Enough Ginny! Don't ever do that again. Poor Harry, with all that trouble going on…"

"It was me," Harry said forcefully.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Um, I was going for a walk early this morning and, um, I got into trouble."

He looked sideways at Ginny and Hermione. Ginny felt her scowl slipping.

"I tripped on some rocks and hit my head… er… again… and I guess I blacked out."

Mrs. Weasley looked horrified.

"And," he continued, his voice gaining strength. "And I think Crookshanks…"

Hermione leapt forward. "And Crookshanks found him, Mrs. Weasley! He did! And he ran up to me and Ginny and we knew that something bad had happened. Honestly, Mrs. Weasley! And then… and then… and then he led us to Harry and we found him and we helped him and we had to wait for him to recover and that is why we stayed so long and that is why our beds were empty so it's not really Ginny's fault after all but Harry's fault but it's not really Harry's fault because he tripped but he should have known better anyway than to go walking alone but he really didn't mean to cause any trouble Mrs. Weasley and neither did I and neither did Ginny and neither did Crookshanks and we should have woken you up but we were too worried to and Ron stop looking at me like that you're going to swallow something and we are so sorry Mrs. Weasley…"

She seemed then to run out of breath.

Everyone gaped at her as she struggled to catch her breath. She opened her mouth again. "And then…"

Ginny grasped her arm. "It's okay, Hermione," she said.

She turned to look at her mum, her expression carefully neutral.

"I'm so sorry, mum," she said. "I should have left a note, but when Crookshanks came in and was panicking…"

Mrs. Weasley's expression softened. "Oh, Ginny, it's okay. You did a very good thing going after Harry and making sure he was ok. I'm sorry I yelled at you too."

Harry smiled at Ginny before turning once again to Mrs. Weasley.

"And I'm sorry too," he said. "I should have been more careful…"

"It's okay Harry dear. You go and get cleaned up now."

Harry squeezed Ginny's arm for a moment… just a moment… and bounded up the stairs followed closely by Ron. Ginny felt her arm burn for a moment… just a moment.

Hermione and Ginny glanced at each other. Mrs. Weasley looked at them.

"You girls go on too. And wash your feet Ginny! They're filthy!"

"Yes mum!" Ginny said, relieved.

Careful to avoid the gaze of the rest of the Weasleys, the two girls ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. When they reached their bedroom, Ginny slammed the door shut and finally let her scowl come out again.

"I swear, Hermione," she said angrily as she flopped on her bed. "I love my mum to bits, but why is she always on my case?"

Hermione, her face white as a ghost's, staggered against her cabinet.

"I… I lied to your mum! I can't believe it! I…"

Ginny smiled slyly at her. "Yeah, you did! And you were good! She utterly fell for it!"

Hermione, her color coming back, giggled a little.

"Yeah…"

And then she turned to Ginny, a shrewd expression on her face.

"So," she said. "What WAS that all about anyway? I do know for a fact that Arnold absolutely did not escape last night."

Ginny blushed.

"Nothing… I … Harry just… and I…"

"How was it?" Hermione's voice was light.

"How was what?"

"Hugging Harry like that."

"We weren't Hugging!"

"Yes you were!"

"Were not!"

"You were hugging Ginny! Honestly…"

"I was cold! I think." Ginny's ears burned. "And nothing happened! I really was just taking a walk last night and Harry just dropped by. I didn't ask him to join me! He just… did. And we talked and talked… and I guess we just… fell asleep."

"Just fell asleep. Right."

"Right!"

Ginny sighed and picked at the trace amount of mud on her feet. "I really have to go wash this…" she muttered.

"Ginny," Hermione's voice was quite serious now. "Did something… happen?"

Ginny sniffed. What a question.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't think so. I think I wanted something to happen… but I don't think he did."

Hermione stayed silent for a long moment. She stared at Ginny with those intensely penetrating brown eyes. Ginny felt more than a little self conscious under her scrutiny and busied herself by checking her nails. They were ok, not too long… maybe a little ragged from all the biting…

"What did you want to happen?"

Ginny leapt up of the bed.

"I don't know, okay?" she shouted, suddenly both cross and desperate. "I just don't know!"

"Ginny," Hermione's voice was low and soft. "You're with Dean. I thought you gave up on Harry…"

"I did too! It's just…"

She ran her hand through her long fiery hair.

"Dean and I… it just doesn't feel right. Do you know what I mean? I don't feel… happy enough. Excited enough. Loving enough. I don't… know."

She looked at Hermione desperately.

"Do you know what I mean?"

Hermione sat on her bed and beckoned Ginny to her. Reluctantly, Ginny sat on the proffered space. Hermione smiled. It was not a typical smile of hers. This one was sad. Lonely.

"Ginny," she said softly. "Did I ever tell you why Victor and I never… you know, got together?"

Ginny glanced at her. "No… not really. I just assumed he had bad breath."

Hermione looked shocked. "Ginny!"

Ginny shrugged. "Well, I did!"

"No, it wasn't his breath. It was…" she shrugged. "We kissed. But… all the while we were together… it just wasn't right."

She gazed at Ginny. Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Hermione, I don't…"

"It wasn't right Ginny. And I knew that I was just wasting time. I knew there was…"

She blushed.

"Someone else."

Ginny pursed her lips. "I… like Dean? I think?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"No, of course I'm sure! I mean, he has to be right for me, right? Much better than Michael anyway. I mean, he's in Gryffindor…"

"Like Harry," Hermione said quietly.

"He's smart."

"Like Harry."

"He's kind."

"Like Harry."

"He's brave!"

"Like…"

"Oh stop it Hermione!" Ginny jumped up off the bed. She was chagrined to feel tears burning in her eyes. "He's DEAN THOMAS, ok? He's smart and kind and brave and good and…"

"Not Harry."

Hermione stood up and crossed the room to where Ginny now gazed out the window.

"No," Ginny whispered. "He's not." Curiously, annoyingly, she began to cry. Hermione wrapped her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair.

"Shush, it's ok Ginny," she said tenderly.

"No it's not," Ginny sniffled noisily. "I should be happy! I should be over him!"

"Ginny…"

"He doesn't SEE me, Hermione! He just thinks I'm Ron with long hair."

Hermione made a sound very much like a snicker. Ginny slapped her shoulder playfully. "You know what I mean."

"Yes. Quite." Hermione sighed and pulled away. "You'll work things out Ginny. You always do. You're smarter than you think."

Ginny smiled and peered at her through wet lashes. "Thanks. I guess I should just be happy Harry's my friend at all. I guess… I'll try to be happy with Dean."

Hermione pulled her close again. "You'll work things out…"

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom swung open with a loud bang.

The two girls jumped back. "Wha…?"

Harry stuck his head in. "Um… am I interrupt…"

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "Don't you ever knock?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Uh… sorry. Ginny, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Ginny tripped over her bed as she dashed for the door. "Thanks again Hermione!" she called over her shoulder. Harry opened the door wide for her and smiled. Ginny skidded to a halt in the cramped hallway.

The sounds of the Weasley family drifted up the stairs. Spoons clanked against plates, glasses thudded against tables, and laughter rang in the hall. At the end of the corridor, a small window opened up facing the garden. Warm sunlight shone through and birds sang their good morning to the world.

"Hi." She said.

"Hi." He said.

The door to the girls' bedroom clicked quietly shut, accompanied by a suppressed giggle. Slowly, the sounds of the house faded from Ginny's hearing, leaving her only with the unbearable racket of her own breathing.

"So." He said.

"So." She said.

She gazed up at Harry who was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. She couldn't tell if it was amusement or shyness or confidence or… nervousness? A long moment passed between them there, in that narrow hall, and Ginny's throat dried up. She arched her eyebrow expectantly.

"Um," he said shortly. "Your mum's calling you."

"Oh…" Was that all?

"And… uh… about last night?"

"Don't worry about it," Ginny said as the walls seemed to press in around her. "It was an accident. Just… nothing. It meant nothing, right?"

Harry's eyes opened wide and he stepped back a bit. "Um, yeah. Nothing. I, uh, haha, I actually thought you were Fleur…"

"Oh." Ginny felt that burn in her eyes again. "Sorry I wasn't…"

"No, Ginny, it's not…"

"What Harry?" She was angry now. Her chest tightened. "Or rather, should I say 'Aree? Huh? Is that what you want Potter? Oh 'Aree! I weel leeeeaave Beel for yooouuu!" She felt her jaw lock. She looked down sharply at the floor, staring at the way her toes clenched on the wood. She wasn't going to cry… she wasn't…

Harry stared at her bewildered.

She wasn't going to cry… she wasn't…

"No Ginny," he said uncertainly. "I was actually… no, I AM glad it was you."

The tightness in her chest and the burning in her eyes stopped. She looked up at him. "What?"

He had a smile on his face. "My dream… well, it was bad. I got… I got scared."

He stepped closer. His eyes glinted in the light. Or was it his glasses?

"I'm glad it was you. Somehow I felt… better."

Hope welled up inside her.

"Better?" she stepped closer. She grew uncomfortably aware that he was only inches away from her. She could see the vein in his neck pulse… she could see his chest rise and fall with each breath he took.

"Yeah. You're a great friend."

"Oh."

She stepped back. A friend. Yeah. She was a great friend. Sure. "Um, yeah Harry. You too. I felt… I felt better too." No, she said to herself. This time she would hide it better. She wouldn't show him her pain. She steeled herself and willed a smile to form on her face.

"That was a great Fleur, by the way." He smiled.

"Yeah… sorry."

"No don't be."

Don't cry. Don't cry.

"So, Harry," she said affecting lightness. "Is that all?"

To her surprise, he bit his lower lip and shifted nervously. "Uh," he said. She suddenly felt a rush of panic. There was more? No… no, she had to go. She couldn't handle any more.

"C'mon Harry," she said trying to keep the desperation from her voice. Suddenly the corridor felt all too small. "I have a letter to write."

"To Dean?"

"Yeah." She darted a look at the door.

"Oh. Dean. Ok. Here." He quickly extended his hand. A small package rested on his palm. It was wrapped, messily, in bright purple paper. "Happy birthday."

A gift. He gave her a gift. So he didn't forget after all.

"Sorry I couldn't give it on your actual birthday," he said quickly. "I had to wait for Diagon Ally…"

A gift. She grabbed it from him. "Um, thanks Harry!" She said brightly.

He looked at her. "Are you going to open it?"

Could she? She didn't know.

"Maybe… maybe later Harry."

"Oh. Ok, then." He stuck his hands in his pockets and backed up down the hall. "Well, uh, I'm glad we could talk. I'll see you downstairs, yeah? Okay, bye!" And with that he ran down the stairs.

Ginny felt a hot tear run down her face. "Yeah. Later." With a sob, she turned and pushed the door to her room. Hermione fell to the floor with a muffled gasp. Ginny sighed. "Please Hermione… I need to be alone."

After picking herself up, Hermione patted her gently on the cheek, then turned and walked out the door. Ginny waited until she could hear her footsteps fade then threw herself onto her bed.

Why was she being so stupid! For a few minutes, she let herself go. All her pain, all her insecurities, all her fear… for a few minutes… just a few minutes.

After her shoulders stopped shaking and her tears stopped flowing, she angrily wiped her eyes. "Stop it, Ginny," she said angrily. "Just… just stop it." She gazed at the package she held tightly in her hand.

"GINEVRA! COME DOWN NOW! AND I MEAN NOW!"

Ginny sighed and blew her nose on the sleeve of her robe. Okay. Okay. Just friends then. Okay.

"Coming mum!" She called lightly. "Coming!" And with that, she swept the hair out of her eyes and ran to the door… ran to the family and the friends waiting below.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prior to dashing out of her door, Ginevra Molly Weasley had slapped the gift onto the edge of her dresser and wiped her eyes. The gift remained on her dresser for the next two days, as she had found herself both unable and at times unwilling to open it. There were moments, long moments, when she felt she would give in, but the pain she was hiding was just too fresh… too open.

And so there it stayed, a reminder and a testament to fear and conflict. And when the day to return to Hogwarts arrived, Ginevra Molly Weasley had forgotten about it… maybe intentionally, maybe not. But Hermione Granger, she of the bushy hair and sharply arched eyebrows, did not. Sneakier than credited, Hermione had surreptitiously placed the gift in the pocket of Ginny's Hogwarts robe and said, quietly, "Oh, Honestly."

And later, within the great gleaming body of the Hogwarts Express, Ginny had found herself sitting next to her would be boyfriend, he of the goodness and the kindness that was not like Harry's. And as he shyly held her hand, her other hand slipped into the pocket of her robe. There it found, quite easily, the small purple box. And, as Dean Thomas made some silly joke, Ginny smiled as she imagined, quite against her wishes, that the box still held… still kept… some of the warmth from Harry's gentle, gentle hands.


	3. Chapter 3: Quidditch Practice

_A/N: This chapter occurs shortly before the incident in Hogsmeade where Katie got injured and shortly after Harry forms the quidditch team._ **CHAPTER 3: Quidditch Practice and Chocolate Frogs**

Harry Potter streaked through the air, one arm gripping his broomstick tight and the other outstretched with rigid determination. Buzzing about in front of him was a bright golden ball the size of a walnut. It's wings flapping in the air, the golden snitch danced its merry jig, totally and completely uncaring of Harry's muttered cursing. With a grunt, Harry made to swipe at the snitch only to miss it by a matter of centimeters.

Harry lost his balance for a moment and swore under his breath. What was wrong with him today? Quidditch training had been going on for an hour and he had only caught the snitch twice! It was as if there was something there, in the back of his mind, bothering him with incessant twinges.

Twinge. There it was again.

And even more annoying was that he couldn't figure out what it was.

The snitch suddenly dove for the grass twenty meters below. Harry gripped his Firebolt broomstick tight and swooped down after it. As he passed the small crowd that had gathered to watch the training session, he noticed with great annoyance that Cormac McLaggen had come to watch them again. He was there just at the edge of the field whispering to Dean Thomas.

Feeling that annoying twinge in his brain again, he refocused on his task. Seeker and Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, he had to learn to set a good example. Dodging past a streaking Katie Bell, he lunged after the golden snitch hoping to be able to call a quick break and clear his head.

As the snitch neared the ground, it suddenly pulled level and zoomed forward again. Relying on sheer natural talent, Harry pulled up from his sharp dive and raced on after it. Finally, just as the snitch was about to veer away again, Harry snatched at it. This time, there would be no escape. As Harry's fingers closed around the snitch, the bright golden ball shivered for a moment and reluctantly surrendered.

Smiling, Harry skidded his broomstick to a halt before gently setting down in front of the stands. As he disembarked, he caught a glimpse of McLaggen and Dean watching him. McLaggen wore an inscrutable expression that did not flatter him and Dean gave him a noncommittal smile.

Twinge.

Harry turned to look at the rest of his team still flying their routines. He managed to catch the end of a particularly daring move which saw Katie Bell fly straight at a bludger, duck underneath it, flip the quaffle over her shoulder to a trailing Ginny Weasley who then proceeded to swerve to follow the path of the bludger. Demelza Robbins, playing the role of an opposing chaser, had no choice but to get out of the way as both Ginny and the bludger barreled down at her. Coote, one of the beaters, lashed out at the bludger, smacking it way downfield and Ginny easily rounded Ron Weasley before tossing the quaffle goal bound.

Harry watched as Ginny smirked at Ron before giving Katie a thumbs up. She then turned to give him the briefest of looks before zooming off to give Demelza some tips.

"Go Ginny!" Harry winced at Dean's shout. The guy hadn't shut up all day…

"Time out guys! Bring it in! Let's take a break!" Harry yelled at his team. Katie, Ginny, and Coote nodded and began to round up all the balls. Ron, who had so far let in five goals that day, sank to the ground with palpable relief. His shoulders sagged as he approached Harry.

"That was rubbish," he muttered. "I should be kicked off the team!"

"Nonsense," Harry said trying to be cheerful. "You're good, I tell you. You just have to…"

"That was great Ron!" A high feminine voice rang out from behind them. Harry turned to see a girl with long blond hair wave at them. Lavender Brown sat on one of the higher benches with her best friend Parvati who looked faintly bored. She had a bright smile on her pretty face. "Go Ron!"

Harry raised an eyebrow as he saw Hermione Granger, who sat just below her, whip out a book and begin to mutter.

Ron meanwhile raised his head and gave a rather loopy grin. He nudged Harry with a sharp elbow. "Hey Harry," he whispered. "You reckon she…"

"Harry!" Ginny ran up to them, broomstick in hand. She pulled up before Harry and wiped her forehead with the bright scarlet sleeve of her robe. "Whew, it's hot out here."

Harry smiled. He noticed that Ginny had pulled her hair back into a rather fetching ponytail, but one errant lock managed to slip free during the training. It dangled down the side of her face, gently nudging her cheek as she spoke.

"Hi Ron. What's wrong Harry?" She raised an eyebrow and tucked the lock of hair behind her ear. Harry noticed that her face flushed charmingly red, probably from the sun, and began to realize that it really was a pretty hot day.

"What do you mean?"

"You know…"

"Er, Harry?" Ron nudged him again, still looking at Lavender. "Do you think I could go…"

"Yeah, yeah." Harry gestured casually and Ron rushed up the stairs.

"Anyway," Ginny continued scowling after her brother. "The snitch Harry! You usually catch it, what, ten times every thirty minutes. And you look… I dunno… distracted?" She squinted at him.

"Oi! Ginny! Come over here!"

Harry glanced in annoyance at Dean's voice. He had stood up beside McLaggen, who was still seated, and was gesturing for Ginny to sit with them.

Twinge.

Ginny waved them off. "Later! Just going over tactics."

Harry smiled as Dean shrugged and sat down again. He turned back to Ginny who was gazing at him cautiously. He cleared his throat.

"Anyway," he continued. "It's nothing Ginny. Just… I dunno, I guess I'm nervous."

She smirked. "Harry Potter? Nervous? No… he NEVER gets nervous…"

"Oh stop."

"No you stop!"

"No you…"

CRASH!

Harry spun around and gaped at the scene unfurling above him. Hermione stood with her arms folded crossly, glaring down at Ron who was sprawled out across two levels of seats. His arms were pin-wheeling wildly, trying to give him momentum to get up.

"Fine Ronald!" Hermione shrieked. "If you don't want me here… then… FINE!"

"But…" his voice came.

"Just let her go Ron," Lavender said smirking.

Hermione hurumphed, grabbed her book-bag, and stalked off. When Ron finally righted himself, she was gone. He stood there, red faced and sputtering, and turning a bright shade of red. He noticed everyone looking at him. "What?" He shouted. Beside him, Lavender giggled and urged him to sit.

"Oi," Ginny said softly.

Harry turned back to her. "What do you reckon…"

"Leave them be Harry," Ginny said crossly as she looked at them. "If Ron wants to be a prat then let him be a prat." She shifted her gaze to look at him. "So… are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Harry swallowed. "Well, you know, it's my first captaincy. And I don't want to lose."

He shrugged. "The team is good, I think. I mean, Coote and Peakes are alright, and Demelza's getting better, and of course Katie's as good as ever…"

He coughed.

"And you're pretty amazing…."

She blushed.

"But Ron…" He sighed. "Ron's my best mate, but there's got to be a way to get his confidence up! If he keeps putting himself down… and we got Slytherin coming up! I won't ever live it down if Malfoy beats us."

"He won't," Ginny said softly. She bit her lip for a moment and gave a small shrug. "We got an amazing seeker, you know."

Harry tried not to sputter. "Uh… if you say so…"

"Seeker? I meant chaser. We got an amazing chaser. With flowing red locks and ravishing beauty…" She smirked at him. He reached over and swatted her head. She dodged him effortlessly and aimed a sharp, but not too hard, kick at his shin. "Hey, you said it yourself."

"I didn't say the beauty part!"

"Oh, so I'm ugly?" She had a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.

"No! You're…" He struggled.

"Pretty? Ugly? Pretty ugly?" She arched an eyebrow and stifled her laughter.

"Yes! No! I mean… You… I mean," he sputtered.

"Cool it, Potter." She laughed finally, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Just playing."

"Har, har," Harry said. "You wound me with your wicked weasel tongue." He smiled at her.

"Anyway," Ginny said when she stopped laughing. "I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Are you going to get yourself thrown out of the team somewhere down the line?"

Harry started to laugh but caught himself when he saw her expression. Composing himself, he shrugged. "Uh, no. I don't plan too. Why?"

Her intense brown eyes bored into him. "Harry," she sighed. "You have a track record. I know you. One of these days, some teacher is going to give you detention and you're going to have to miss a match. What do we do then?"

Harry shrugged. "You play seeker. You're great!"

Ginny smiled and waggled a finger at him. "You're supposed to say 'No Ginny! I'll never miss another match!'."

Harry grinned. "Well okay. No Ginny, I'll never miss another match." He laughed. "But you have a point. I probably will. So…"

"What?"

"Maybe you should practice a few times as seeker, just in case. Here, break time is almost up. When we restart, let's switch. I'll play chaser, and you seek."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Ginny grinned wickedly. "Can I use your Firebolt?"

His eyes widened. "Uh…"

"Nah, that's ok." She smiled. "I'll make do."

She glanced around at the rest of the team.

"Hey, why don't we get started then? Here…" She reached over and gently took his hand. Her fingers were soft and warm. With a slight smile, she pried his fingers away from the trapped golden snitch.

The snitch, delighted to be free from its captivity, sped away in a frenzied burst of energy. Ginny laughed and stared after it with predatory hunger in her eyes. She squeezed Harry's hand one more time, leapt onto her broomstick, and soared off after it. Left in her wake, Harry puzzled over the sudden scent of flowers that lingered in the air.

"Just warn me when we start, ok?" She called back over her shoulder.

Harry watched her as she flew. He loved watching her as she flew. He thought back to the world cup match he had watched between Ireland and Bulgaria. Those, he thought, were flyers. They flew with power and skill, pulsing through the air like wingless hawks. But Ginny…

Flying was one thing. Ginny didn't so much fly as soar. She had a grace he had never seen anywhere before. She rode air currents like they were cushions, pulled out of dives with the greatest of ease, and performed loops with a smile on her face. Given time, she could even beat Harry someday.

As Ginny followed the snitch with whoops of joy, the snitch rose quickly into a low hanging bank of clouds. Gripping her broomstick, she zoomed in after and disappeared into a cloud.

Harry smiled. With a sigh, he turned and got ready to call his team back together.

"OI! GET AWAY FROM THERE," Katie Bell suddenly shouted as she pushed past. As she ran downfield, Harry glanced at whom she was screaming at. Cormac, Dean, and Seamus Finnegan stood hunched over the violently shaking trunk that held the violently shaking bludgers. As Dean was flipping it open, Cormac stood and leered at her.

"It's ok, Katie dear," he said while waving a small bat around. "I was just telling Dean and Seamus here that, aside from being a great keeper, I'm a fantastic beater." He jerked his head at the Peakes and Coote. "Hey fellows! See if you can learn something!"

"Cormac you prat!" Katie screamed. She was just about to reach them when Dean finally flipped the lid open.

"Oho!" Shouted Cormac. "Here we go!"

Two black round balls shot up high in the air, hungrily seeking targets. They swooped around overhead for a moment before storming back down. By the time they were halfway down, Katie had made it to Cormac and began wrestling him for the bat.

"Get off me you stupid girl!" He roared.

"Let go, you git!"

With a jerk, Cormac shoved Katie out of the way. She went sprawling over the quidditch ball box and landed in a very undignified heap. The bludgers just about reached him when he drew the bat back.

"Watch this!" He snarled. For a moment, just a moment, he glanced over at where Harry stood. The first bludger reached Cormac then, who swung the bat with a ferocious roar. But the second bludger surprised him, and he had to whip the bat around quickly to ward it off. It bounced of the end of the bat flying up and away.

The first bludger screamed through the air as it hurtled towards Harry. Harry, who had been reaching for his wand when Cormac had struck Katie, quickly pulled it out of his pocket and set his feet. Bludgers were enchanted to maul players indiscriminately. All he needed to do was to cancel out the enchantment with a simple spell. Easy... if he could hit it.

As the bludger sped towards him, it zigged and zagged, dodging imaginary beaters. Harry held his wand out at the ready for a moment, squinted, and flicked it.

"Finite Incantatem!" A jet of bright sparkly light shot out from the tip of his wand. It met the bludger head on, striking it with a loud bang. The spell animating the bludger stopped, but its momentum still carried it towards Harry.

Harry's eyes flew open.

"Oh no…"

He dove to one side as the bludger passed inches from his head. Rolling as he landed, he quickly sprung up again just in time to watch the bludger smash harmlessly into the stands behind him. As the students watching scattered, Harry was relieved to see that nobody was struck.

"Is everyone alright?"

When everyone nodded their assent, he turned to Cormac, a furious expression locked in.

"How dare you…"

Then he froze. The other bludger.

He whirled around quickly, scanning the area where Cormac had hit it. If he remembered correctly, Cormac had hit it so it rocketed top the sky. Following its enchantment, the bludger should have come down right away when it didn't detect any players up there…

Ginny. She didn't know.

"GINNY!" He screamed. Beside Cormac, Dean's dark face drained of color.

Harry ran to where his Firebolt had fallen and snatched it up. "Katie," he called. "The other bludger…"

"Right Harry," she said. "Alright guys, eyes up and wands out. Peakes, Coote…"

Harry left her to it. He straddled his Firebolt and leapt up into the sky. Under his breath, he cursed Cormac and Dean for their stupidity. One would think that Dean would know better than to endanger his girlfriend.

"Ginny!" He called. "Where are you?" He scanned the horizon quickly. No sign of her.

"Harry! I got it! I got it!"

Her voice came down at him from a nearby cloudbank. She sounded elated. Harry sighed, relieved. So she hadn't been hit. Now if he could just find the last bludger…

And suddenly, Ginny burst out from the cloud. She held aloft the struggling snitch in one small, gloved hand, a smile plastered on her face. When she caught sight of Harry, she grinned and swerved towards him.

"Hah!" She called out as she approached. "And I got it in less time than you!"

"Bludger!" He shouted. But with Ginny being some distance upwind, she apparently could barely hear him.

"What?"

He turned his broomstick to face her. He cupped his hands around his mouth and flew towards her.

"BLUDGER!"

"WHAT?"

And then he saw it. It was right behind her.

"GINNY!" He pointed frantically and tried to will his broomstick to reach her.

She looked at him, confused, and shrugged.

"CAN'T HEAR…"

No time. He jabbed his hand in his pocket and whipped out his wand. It would be risky but…

"Finite Incantatem!"

The spell zipped past Ginny's head at the bludger. It missed her by inches.

It missed the bludger too.

Ginny whipped her head around to follow the path of the spell, and gasped when she saw the bludger.

"GINNY!" Harry roared.

But it was too late.

Time seemed to compress for Harry Potter. As his hand reached out, his broom seemed to slow down at an infinite rate until he seemed caught up in that one moment that lingers between sleeping and waking. Conversely, the bludger sped up. Inexorably, inescapably, the bludger hurtled towards Ginny at an incredible speed, giving the young woman no chance at all.

The bludger smashed into Ginny's body with a sickening crack.

"No!" Harry screamed.

Ginny made no sound at all.

The bludger had hit her in her chest, throwing her back off of her broom before careening off. She slid off slowly, almost gently, her eyes grown wide from the shock. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Her right arm, triumphantly raised just a moment ago and holding the snitch, lingered for one long a moment. Then, slowly, her limp fingers blossomed open. And the snitch, unfurling its golden wings, fluttered off and danced in the sunlight.

And Ginny, dear sweet Ginny, plummeted.

"Finite Incantatem!" Harry shouted as he flicked his wand in the direction of the bludger. Without waiting to see if the spell had hit, he jabbed the wand back into his robe and sped off after Ginny.

"C'mon," he muttered. He briefly ran through all the spells he knew. He couldn't think of any that worked for stopping a falling person. He gritted his teeth and gripped the handle of his broom, drew himself down against it, and urged it onward.

He could see Ginny's eyes close.

"C'mon…" He sped closer. He couldn't lose her.

Her mouth hung loosely open.

"C'mon…" Closer. He had to save her.

Blood trickled from the corner of her lips.

"C'mon…" He was right there. Just reach out and…

And he had her.

Harry swooped down below Ginny's limp form and gathered her into his arms. He staggered on his broom from the impact of her weight and fought to retain his balance.

"Harry!" Ron was shouting from the ground just meters away.

Harry struggled a bit and steadied himself, Ginny sagging in his arms. He stared at her for a moment, taking in her ashen skin, closed eyes, and oozing blood. One slender arm was gathered on her chest while the other hung loosely by his side.

"Call Madam Pomfrey!" He shouted at the waiting crowd.

Ginny…

"No… wait… I'll take her to the hospital wing."

Without waiting for a reply, he adjusted his grip on her and sped off toward Hogwarts. His heart pounded in his ears and he felt a nauseating feeling wrench his gut. Tears began to sting his eyes and he angrily blinked them away. He had to focus. Flying without holding the handle…

But no. This was his only chance.

This was her only chance.

"Hold on, Ginny," He whispered. "Just hold on."

She moaned and began trembling.

He could feel her slipping.

Finally, as the sun began to dip beyond the horizon and cast long shadows across the campus, Harry touched down in the castle courtyard.

"Help!" He screamed as he fell off the broom. Ditching his Firebolt, he redoubled his grip on Ginny and staggered off into the castle. "Help!"

His cry echoed in the strangely empty entrance hall. His arms grew numb.

"HELP!"

"Harry, what…?" Hermione's voice came from behind him. She ran into view and gaped at Ginny.

"Harry, what happened?" She demanded. She brought out her wand, pointed it at Ginny, and mumbled, "Mobili-corpus."

All at once, Ginny's weight lifted off of Harry. He stumbled to the cold, hard stone and gasped for breath.

"Hu… hurry," he panted. "Madam…"

Hermione nodded. "C'mon," she said.

Together, with Hermione levitating Ginny's still form, they made their way up the long flight of stairs to the Hospital Wing.

"Hold on, Ginny," Harry whispered. "Hold on."

When they threw open the door to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey received them immediately. She gestured calmly to the closest bed.

"Here, dears. Easy now, that's it." Her voice was steady and strong. "Let me have a look at her."

Hermione gently laid Ginny down on the bed and began to sob. Madam Pomfrey ushered them aside and bent over to examine her. When Harry refused to move, Hermione gripped him by the arm and dragged him to one side.

"What happened Harry?" She asked urgently.

"A bludger." He wiped back tears of his own. "Cormac… and Dean…"

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue. "Oh dear."

Harry felt fear grip his heart and his blood turned cold.

"You can fix her, right?"

She sighed. "She has three broken ribs… those I can fix right away. But she also has internal injuries… bleeding… those will be trickier."

"BUT YOU CAN FIX HER, RIGHT?" Harry shouted.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him pointedly. "Yes. But it will be painful. And difficult. Now I need you two to go. I can have no distractions. You can send Mr. Weasley around later, but that's it. Family only."

With one last lingering look at Ginny, Harry stormed out of the room followed closely by Hermione. He stopped just outside the door and slammed his fist against the wall. The pain in his knuckles brought the world back into focus, and his breath caught in his throat.

If only he had lent her the Firebolt. If only he hadn't suggested that she seek. Maybe she wouldn't have been…

Hermione's soft hand touched his shoulder. "Harry," she whispered.

Harry turned slowly. Hermione stood before him, fear etched in her face. "Harry…" She reached out to him, sobbing.

Harry took her in his arms then and buried his face in her bushy hair. He felt a great wracking sob heave up from his stomach, unfettered by shame or propriety or even fear. It exploded out of him and his sobs mingled with the tiny hiccupping sounds Hermione was making.

Their sobs echoed in the dark, deserted hall. All was silent but for them for a little while, but footsteps soon clambered towards them. Harry glanced up through a sheen of tears and angrily wiped his eyes. The torches lining the halls of Hogwarts created a mass of shadows along the wall, and Harry could see figures running towards them Getting himself under control, he patted Hermione gently on the top of her head and pulled away.

"Harry!" Ron called out as he ran. Cormac, Lavender, Dean, and a few others trailed him. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

Ron staggered to a halt beside Hermione and bent over to catch his breath. Hi pale, white face was red, and his breath came in wheezes.

"Where… where is she?"

Hermione took Ron gently by the arm and guided him into the room. Lavender sniffed, then walked off.

Harry stared after them and waited for the door to close before rounding on the rest of the group. When he saw Cormac McLaggen lounging easily against the wall, he felt something stir in his chest. Something angry. Something startling.

"Cormac," he said through gritted teeth. "That was the stupidest, most irresponsible…"

Dean carefully stepped between them.

"Harry," he said soothingly. "It was an accident… we were just playing…"

Harry stared at Dean incredulously.

"She's your girlfriend!" He roared. "What's wrong with you!"

"That's right, Potter! She's my girlfriend… NOT YOURS!" He screamed back, anger flashing in his eyes. "If anyone has a right to be so concerned and angry, it's me!"

Harry stared at him coldly.

"Then why aren't you?"

For a long moment, Dean and Harry glared at each other. Harry tried to keep his face calm while Dean's raged with a myriad of expressions. Harry kept his hand on his wand… just in case.

And then Dean's face fell.

"I'm… yeah, I'm sorry. I am concerned… I'm…"

And to Harry's surprise, Dean began to cry.

"That was… that was stupid Harry. I shouldn't have… and I should've put her first… and… what… what do I do… what…"

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Go ahead to the common room, Dean." He said, trying to keep his voice gentle. The thing in his chest grunted in annoyance. "I'll wait for Hermione and Ron… we'll come by later and tell you when you can see her."

Dean nodded, started to walk, and gestured to Cormac. Cormac, gazing idly at his fingernails, shrugged and pushed off after him. As he passed Harry, he sneered.

"Too close, Potter… too close. You know, you should keep a tighter grip on your team. Fine captain you are… letting a teammate get killed…"

Harry gritted his teeth and whipped out his wand.

Just then, the door to the hospital swung open and Hermione stepped out. Cormac laughed and headed down the hall after Dean. Hermione glanced after them and started dragging Harry the other way.

"C'mon Harry," she said. "We have to tell Professor McGonagall."

Harry glanced anxiously at the door.

"How is she?"

Hermione gave a small smile. "Awake. Asking for you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Can we…?"

"No, Harry." Hermione's voice caught in her throat. "She's in… well, she's in a lot of pain. Madam Pomfrey is trying to..."

She coughed.

"No. She'll be fine though Harry. Madam Pomfrey fixed her ribs and gave her something for the bleeding. She should be fine in a few hours, but Madam Pomfrey wants her to stay overnight for observation." She sighed. "Ron passed out on a bed beside her. All the blood I guess…"

But Harry had stopped listening. He balled his hand into a fist. She was going to be fine. She was going to be fine.

No thanks to him.

"Okay… okay."

As Harry let Hermione guide him to Professor McGonagall's office, he knew that he had to see Ginny. After hours or not, no visitors or not, he would find a way to see her… to apologize to…

To do something.

That night… 

Harry lay under the covers of his bed, his eyes closed in a good approximation of sleep. He heard Ron shuffling around beside him and briefly debated including him in his plan. But… no. He had to do this alone.

Finally, the light in the room dimmed and Harry heard Ron drop noisily onto his bed. He waited for the characteristic snores to come before throwing back the covers and leaping out onto the floor.

Ron snorted and turned over in his sleep. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm a ninny."

Harry shrugged and grabbed his invisibility cloak from where it lay under his bed. Snatching up his book bag, he eased out of the room silently and made his way down to the common room.

When he reached the exit of Gryffindor tower, he stopped and pulled out an old scrap of parchment from his bag. Spreading it out before him, he tapped it lightly with his wand and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Within moments, the marauder's map took shape and he peered intently at it. The halls were surprisingly empty. Mr. Filch was holed up in his room, Snape was in his office, Hermione was in her room…

All well and good.

Slipping on his invisibility cloak, he pushed the portrait of the fat lady open and stepped out.

"Who's there?" The fat lady demanded. Harry didn't bother answering and just walked on.

Walking through the deserted halls of Hogwarts was nothing new to Harry. Ever since he first stepped foot in the school, midnight strolls became a regular occurrence for him. He just wished that they were all for as good a reason as to see Ginny. But, even with all those sleepless nights, he still never ceased to be amazed at the grandeur of Hogwarts by night.

Light and shadows battled in the deserted halls. Giant windows saw shafts of silvery moonlight stream in, bathing specific areas with a soothing, gentle light. But there, just beyond the edge of the moonlight, lingered dark shadows of deepest black, seeming to hide secrets within them that would never be discovered.

As his footsteps echoed along the stone corridors, Harry heard other sounds as well; the creaking of the wooden beams, the settling of thousand-year old rocks, and a quiet, almost unnoticeable sound of laughter. He never found out just what kept laughing in the night… but he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He walked on; through the darkness, through the creaking, through the mystery…

Finally, he reached the Hospital wing. He tried the door after checking the map to make sure Madam Pomfrey was still in her office. It was locked.

"Alohamora!" Harry waved his wand. With a quiet click, the door unlatched and swung open.

Still clutching the invisibility cloak around him, he glanced at Madam Pomfrey's office before waving his wand again.

"Muffliato!" There. That should stop her from hearing them.

He looked around. There she was, in the bed by the window at the end of the room.

All of a sudden, he felt nervous and didn't know why. He swallowed, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead, and slowly walked towards her. As he neared her bed, he winced at the sound of his heart beating stronger and harder in his ears.

And then he was with her. He stood over her and stared.

She looked quite gentle in her sleep. A bright shaft of moonlight fell lightly on her bed, illuminating her with an incandescent glow. Her head rested lightly on a white pillow that contrasted sharply with the bright red hair fanned out around her. Her face was ashen, which made the freckles splayed out across her little nose stand out even more. He followed the soft line of her neck down her body and smiled at the little fist curled up gently against her chest. Her other arm was flung wildly off to the side, dangling over the edge of the bed. She was a fighter, this girl. The blanket that had probably been wrapped tightly around her was pulled out now, exposing just the barest hint of the porcelain skin of her leg.

He looked up tenderly at her face.

Her lips, usually a vibrant shade of pink, were pale and looked little dry. If he looked hard, he thought he could see just a trace of blood still smudged on her lip.

As he felt a sharp pain lance through his heart, he reached out with one trembling thumb and gently wiped at the smudge.

Her lips weren't dry. They were soft and warm and her breath was moist…

She snorted.

He pulled his hand back as if he was electrocuted. What was he doing?

He shook his head violently. No way was he going to wake her up. She needed her rest. He sighed. Might as well leave his little present…

He reached into his book-bag again and pulled out a small box of chocolate frogs which were, if he remembered correctly, her favorite. He gently placed the box beside her bed and turned to leave.

"Are those for me, Potter?"

He whipped around in shock. Ginny was sitting up now, her brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She was slowly moving her gaze around the room.

"What…?"

"Oh good grief, Harry, take off that silly cloak so I can see you."

"Oh… yeah…" Harry whipped off the cloak and let it fall to the floor. He stood before her sheepishly for a moment before grabbing a chair and pulling it close.

"There you are," she whispered softly.

"Uh," he said, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry I woke you."

She waved him off as she greedily opened the box of chocolate. "No, no… it's ok." She flipped the lid open and gave a small cry of joy when a dark chocolate frog leapt into the air. She swiped at it, weakly, and scrunched up her face when she missed. Luckily, the frog landed on her chin with a splat, and she eagerly snatched it up before promptly massacring it.

"Yum," she gave a long moan of delight. Harry twitched. "You have no idea what Pomfrey is making me drink…"

She looked up at Harry. "Thanks."

He smiled. "Welcome. But how did you know I was here?"

She cocked her head as she chewed thoughtfully. "Hmm… I don't… know really. I just… did." She shrugged. "Weird, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"So," she said through a mouthful of chocolate. "How's Ron? I heard he fainted…"

Harry snorted. "Yeah…Hermione said he just keeled over when he saw all the… all the…"

He reached out and grabbed her chocolate covered hand. "I'm so sorry Ginny."

"For what?" She looked utterly bewildered.

"For… for everything. For making you be seeker… for making you fly that stupid old broomstick… for making…"

"Shut it you stupid, stupid git." She said fondly. "You didn't make me do anything. And from what Professor McGonagall says, it wasn't even your fault."

Her eyes darkened. "She didn't say whose, though…" She looked at Harry intensely. "Who did it?"

Harry shifted his thoughts to Dean and Cormac. It was more Cormac's fault than Dean's… but the two were getting to be pretty close. And if Ginny got pissed off at Cormac, things might go sour between she and Dean. And even though the thought of that made him happy for some reason, he couldn't stand the thought of Ginny being unhappy.

"Er," he said uncomfortably. "Nobody's fault really…"

She licked the chocolate off her moist lips.

"Nobody?"

"Er…"

"McLaggen?"

"…"

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "It's okay Harry. McLaggen's a git, and Dean's a git for hanging with him. But forget about them for now…"

She shoved the box of chocolate in his face.

"Have one."

"No, they're for you…"

"Trying to make me fat, Potter? Have one."

"No, you have one."

"No, you!"

"No…" and suddenly, with speed belying her weakened state, she snatched at a frog and shoved it into his mouth. Her fingers lingered there for a second before darting out again. "Good, eh?"

Harry didn't quite know what to say, so he just blushed and nodded and chewed. She smiled at him.

"Thanks for coming down Harry. I know nobody's allowed… I guess that's why Dean didn't come. I got lonely…"

Harry swallowed. "Yeah, you're welcome. I tried to smuggle Arnold out of your room… but Hermione caught me sneaking into the girls' dormitory and shrieked at me."

Ginny laughed. "Well, you better be glad you didn't Harry. You'd have been sorry."

"Why?"

"When Arnold gets picked up by anyone who isn't me… well… he poops."

"Poops?"

"Wetly."

Harry scrunched up his face. "Eww…."

Ginny laughed again. It was a sweet sound to Harry's ears, like the tinkling of two crystal goblets clinking together. "And it looks awfully like that chocolate you've got smushed on your chin!"

Harry stood up in mock indignation. "You're so evil!"

"You got that right, Potter." She happily popped another chocolate and grinned ruthlessly through messy brown teeth.

For the first time since Ginny's accident, Harry felt happy. He gave out a great big laugh, feeling tons of tension lift slowly from his shoulders. Ginny glanced nervously at Madam Pomfrey's office before joining in.

"So," he asked. "How are you feeling now?"

"Bored out of my mind," she muttered. "I'm actually fine, you know. I can walk! But Madam Pomfrey says I should…"

"Well you should, you know."

"No, I'm fine!" She punched him lightly on the knee. "A little woozy, but I bet I could still beat you in a footrace."

Harry nodded slowly. "Sure… sure."

She arched an eyebrow. "That a challenge? C'mon, I'll race you down the hall…"

"Next time, Ginny. You really do have to rest."

For a moment, she stared longingly at the door. She turned to gaze at him slowly, and Harry could have sworn the longing didn't fade.

"Get me out of here Harry," she pleaded silently.

"What?"

"Just an hour… just a walk. I can't… I can't stand it here. I don't like…"

Harry was horrified to see tears begin to form in her stark brown eyes. "When I lie here… I can't forget… I can't forget…"

She buried her face in her chocolate covered hands. "I can still hear his voice, Harry…"

And then he understood. This was the same bed, after all, that Ginny stayed in when she came back from the chamber of secrets. She looked up at him. "I'm not weak… and I hate feeling like I am."

He nodded slowly. "Okay… okay. One hour, then we're coming back. No arguments."

Gently, he took her arm and helped her up. She swung her long legs to the floor and slid her feet into her furry bunny slippers. She stood up slowly, letting the end of her nightgown drop to her ankles. She swayed for a moment and coughed.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. She nodded.

"Let's go."

"Wait," he said as he looked at her. She had fine brown smudges on her cheek. "You have…"

He reached over and slowly wiped at the smudges, completely forgetting that he too had been eating chocolate. "Oops," he said as he made it worse.

"What?" She frowned.

"Nothing," he tried to suppress a laugh. She frowned and looked at him, but he saw a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. "You're weird, Potter."

"No, you are." He grinned. He grabbed the invisibility cloak and threw it over them.

"No, you are." She pressed herself against him, tucking under the cloak.

"No, you are." He grabbed her hand.

"Oh, shut up." She said as they began to walk.

"No, you shut up…"

And they continued their lighthearted bickering as they stepped through the door. As they walked down the deserted halls, they talked of quidditch and Ron and quidditch and Hermione and quidditch and Dean and quidditch and Cho… and as they talked, as they laughed, as they mischievously sneaked about, Harry forgot everything for a while. He forgot about Malfoy, he forgot about Snape, and he even forgot about Voldemort. He forgot about the Dursley's, he forgot about Sirius, and he forgot about McLaggen. He forgot about everything except for the little red headed girl beside him, smiling at him her chocolate smile.

And later, as they made their way back to her bed, he noticed that sleep was finally beginning to claim her.

"No, no…" she yawned as she stepped through the door. "I'm fine…"

"No, Ginny, you just walked into a bed."

"Oh… yeah…"

He bent down and scooped her legs up.

"Harry, what are you…"

"Carrying you."

"Oh…"

And she, shyly, or perhaps sleepily, wrapped her arms around his neck and settled against his chest. "I almost forgot," she muttered sleepily. "Thanks for… for saving me."

"Anytime."

"No… next time I get to save you…" and her voice trailed off.

"Sure…"

He carried her the rest of the way in silence, barely feeling her weight against him. She shifted softly in his arms, and he felt his head might burst. He was only doing this so she wouldn't trip… that's all…

And finally he reached her bed. He lay her down gently, ever so gently, and pulled the sheets up to her neck. He lingered there over her for a moment, taking in her freckles and her eyebrows and her nose and her lips…

He bent down slowly and gently kissed her forehead.

"Good night, Ginny," he whispered.

"No," she muttered, her voice soft and low. "Stay…"

"I can't," he said even though he very much wanted to. "I have to go…"

She grabbed sleepily for his hand and drew it up to her cheek. "Just… just until I fall asleep." She opened her eyes for a moment. "Please?"

He smiled and sat down beside her. "Sure."

Content, she snuggled against his suddenly very warm hand and kissed it.

"Goodnight…"

"Goodnight."

And there, with his arm pressed warmly against her cheek, is where Harry stayed. He stayed not until she fell asleep; not until the moon said goodbye and gave way to the sun; not until Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office in the morning…

He stayed until she stopped groaning in the dark. He stayed until she stopped trembling in fear. He stayed until she stopped whimpering in the cold.

He stayed until she smiled serenely in her sleep. He stayed until she twitched, not in fear, but in dreams. He stayed until, by the light of the moon, her face set in a look of utmost peace.

He stayed until he no longer had to.


	4. Chapter 4: Just Kiss Him

_A/N: This chapter occurs after Katie's injury and Harry is forced to put Dean on the quidditch team. _

P.s. This was a very difficult chapter to write… but it felt so good to write it. I hope you all enjoy it

_P.p.s. Just a disclaimer… I don't own any of these characters or the setting._

_P.p.p.s. Thanks so much for all the reviews. It just makes my day when I read them. _

CHAPTER 4: Just Kiss Him 

As autumn begins to depart in a swirling flow of amber leaves, winter waits with practiced patience, knowing that there will be no escaping her icy, icy caress. But neither cold nor twilight truly bothers the children of Britain, for just as inescapable and inevitable is the sense of anticipation, hope, and desire that comes hand in hand with winter; just as inescapable is Christmas.

Christmas makes its presence known early in Hogwarts School. It doesn't show in silver glitter and festive green; it doesn't show in balls of red and Christmas pudding; and it doesn't show in carol songs that echo in the halls (for the tail end of autumn is much too early for such things). Instead, Christmas casts its magic through the smiles that shine on people's faces, just a tad quicker than normal; it shows in panicked planning of perfect presents, more important to be early than to be late; and it shows in the shy glances that accompany invitations to Yule Balls and Hogsmeade trips.

Christmas is a time of love. It is a time of giving and receiving; of joy and merriment; of laughter and passion. And those who fall into its sweet embrace can forget for a moment whatever Dark Wizard haunts them or whatever unrequited feelings that one feels. They can simply remember that love is a power that will persist; that after every winter comes a reborn spring; that the cold will fade, but the light never will…

And Ginny Weasley, she of the fiery hair and even more fiery manner, will forever remember that Christmas is the time for sprigs of mistletoe…

And sprigs of mistletoe are for kissing under.

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Ginny Weasley groaned as she unceremoniously dumped herself on the hard wooden bench of the changing room. This was a tough quidditch practice. She tried to get comfortable as she lay down for a while, but the sharp pain in her ribs kept reminding her that comfort, for now, was not to be found.

She sighed and sat up, wincing. Madam Pomfrey had made it quite clear that she could expect this pain for a while. The door to the changing room pulled back slowly, and Demelza Robins stalked in. Just beyond her, Ginny could see Harry Potter and her brother Ron duck into the boy's changing room. Ginny gave Harry a quick wave before Demelza closed the door and walked over to the small fire in the corner, an inscrutable expression on her face. She stood there and contemplated the flickering orange light, her long blond hair falling limply down her back.

"Demelza," Ginny said. "You alright?"

Demelza shrugged. "Is it wrong for me to say I hate your brother, Gin?" Her voice was carefully steady.

Ginny pursed her lips as she remembered the image of Ron punching Demelza in the nose. "It's okay… a lot of us hate him right now."

Demelza spun around and stalked over to where Ginny sat. "Really? What is his problem anyway? Just because he's having a bad day…"

"You're right, Dem," Ginny said soothingly. She reached over and squeezed Demelza's hand. "He shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Demelza sat. Her shoulders slouched forward and she gingerly touched a finger to the tip of her nose. "I can't believe he punched me."

Ginny started prying her gloves off. "Yeah, well…"

"At least Harry fixed it," she said. Suddenly, her expression brightened immensely. "I mean, wow! There I was lying on my back thinking the pain would never go away… and there he was! Leaning over me and… and…"

She giggled.

"I never thought quidditch could lead to this! What a hero!"

Ginny's stomach turned. She remembered falling a terribly long distance and wishing, hoping, that she could see Harry's face one last time. She remembered the jarring impact of his arms as they brought her close, saving her from death… again. She remembered that night in the hospital… his hand pressed against her face…

She smiled crookedly. "Yeah… he's like that…"

Demelza turned to her, a sparkle in her deep blue eyes. "Do you think he'll… you know… notice me now?"

There was so much hope in her face that Ginny felt like throwing up. "Er… yeah, maybe? I dunno…"

"He's so dreamy," she gushed. "And that scar is so… so… manly! And he's so handsome! Do you reckon he'll want to be thanked?"

Her expression left no doubt as to how she wanted to thank him. Ginny scowled at her and wished that she didn't like Demelza so much. If she didn't, it would be so easy to bat-bogey hex her into the next century…

"I don't know," she muttered. She felt that tell-tale rush of warmth run up her neck. Dean, she told herself, think of Dean…

"Do you think I'm his type? I mean…" She quickly jumped up and looked at herself in the mirror. "Of course I'm in these stupid quidditch robes… but I have a beautiful little dress with a slit up the…"

Ginny scowled even more. No, of course Demelza wasn't his type. She wasn't nearly tall enough, or asian enough, or silly enough, or Cho Chang-ish enough, or… and her hair was much too red…

Ginny blushed furiously. Blond. She meant blond.

"If you like him so much," she said peevishly. "Just ask him out."

Demelza turned around, a hurt expression on her face. "I was just…" And then she smiled. "Oh… I get it. I'm sorry Gin…"

She walked over to Ginny and patted her head. "Here I am going on and on about Harry Potter, when you…"

"Stop it…" Ginny blushed. How in heavens name did Demelza know about…

"Of course Dean is much, much hotter! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult him!"

"What?" Ginny gaped at her. She blinked. "Oh… yeah… uh… see that you don't forget that then."

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. "Ginny? Are you ready?" Dean's voice called.

Demelza giggled.

"Not yet," Ginny said, a little too loudly. "Just… just wait."

"Okay…"

She heard him shuffle away, obviously just a little disappointed. Or perhaps impatient. Ginny unsnapped her arm braces and tried to focus on the image of her boyfriend… his curly dark hair, his gentle brown eyes, his big soft hands, his lightning shaped scar…

"Oh, stop it Weasley!" She growled suddenly.

Demelza jerked in surprise, then peered at her. "Are you okay, Gin?"

"Stop calling me Gin," she said crossly. Her stupid brace wouldn't come off… "My name is Ginny! G-I-N-N-Y. Ginny. Clear?"

Demelza stared at her.

"Or do I have to write it down?"

Demelza smiled.

"It's okay, you know. It's not that bad."

Ginny's finger caught in one of the snaps of the brace. "Ow," she muttered. "What's not that bad?"

"Kissing."

Ginny stuck the tip of her finger into her mouth, turned, and stared at Demelza. At that point, a raucous laugh drifted in from outside, and she could have sworn she heard Harry's voice. Demelza's eyes sparkled in the firelight.

"What are you talking about?"

Demelza rolled her eyes.

"You know, kissing!" She shifted closer to Ginny so she could lean in. Alarmed, Ginny pulled back a bit. "I overheard him in the common room earlier with that McLaggen guy. And they were talking about you."

Ginny's eyes widened. Harry and McLaggen? Ginny felt a rush of warmth flood into her, and she smiled slightly. Imagine that… Harry Potter defending her honor and all…

"Did he punch him?" She asked greedily.

Now Demelza looked puzzled. "Why would Dean punch him?"

Dean? But… oh yeah. Apparently they were best mates now. "Oh," she muttered, waving her hand absently. "Never mind."

Demelza cocked her head for a moment. "Well, anyway, I heard them talking about you, right?"

Ginny bent down to unlace her boots. "Uh huh… what about?"

"Kissing you," Demelza said simply.

Ginny stopped and sat up slowly. "What would Cormac know about kissing me?"

"Not Cormac, silly, Dean!"

"Oh…"

"Yeah, anyway, Dean said that tonight was the night or something. I think that means he's finally going to try to kiss you! And Cormac was giving him tips…"

The air suddenly seemed much thicker. Of course he was going to try. He had been trying to get her to kiss him for months… and tonight, so happy at getting on the team…

Of course he would try.

Ginny slumped forward and put her face in her hands. She felt that sharp pain in her ribs again. Of course she wanted to kiss him, she was his girlfriend after all. But how could she… when every time he bent down to her… every time he leaned in… all she could think of was Harry.

And then she thought of Harry and Cho in the room of requirement. They were all alone… just the two of them. And according to Ron, snogging like mad. Unbidden, the image of Harry Potter locked in a savage embrace with Cho Chang leapt into her mind. His hands were in her raven black hair. His eyes were closed dreamily. His strong arms were squeezing her close. His soft lips were pressed against hers…

She angrily wiped at the corners of her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. No crying. You are over him…

Demelza leaned in and drew Ginny in close. "Aww, Ginny," she simpered. "It's okay to be scared! But really, it's not that bad! And Dean is quite the hottie…"

Cho and her long sinewy limbs, wrapped around him like a snake. Her beady eyes closed in absolute pleasure that should have been Ginny's. Her low voice murmuring sweet droplets of smelly nothings…

Ginny, quite to her horror, whimpered.

"Aww Ginny," Demelza said sweetly. "Look at you all nervous! You're making me remember my first kiss too! Oh no… you're making me cry!"

Ginny scowled through her tears as she thought, darkly, of other ways to make her cry.

"Do you know what you should do when the time comes, Gin?"

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. Harry had kissed Cho. Did that mean he loved her? If he loved her… will he never love another? How much power does one kiss contain? If Ginny had kissed him…

But why did Harry kiss Cho if he didn't love her? How could he enjoy it so much if he didn't know that she was the one for him? It didn't last… but was that Harry's fault? Cho's?

Demelza pulled back and cupped Ginny's face in her hands. She stared at her, waiting for her to open her eyes. Reluctantly, she did.

"Just kiss him."

Just kiss him.

"Just kiss him… and everything will be alright."

Just kiss him… and know.

She stared at Demelza, her tears fading. She sniffed once to clear her head. Perhaps Harry knew… because he kissed Cho. Perhaps…

Dean. Did she love Dean? Every moment she spent with Dean was… okay. Not too happy, not too bad. Just… okay. Was that how it was supposed to be? Was that how it was for Harry and Cho? Is that all that love is? Maybe you're supposed to be happier with your friends than with your boyfriend. Maybe…

Demelza's eyes twinkled.

"Just kiss him," she whispered.

Ginny sat still for a long moment. She thought of Harry and Cho, lost in their passion. She thought of Harry slowly pushing Cho down on a big red couch. She thought of Cho looking up with languid dark eyes. She thought of Harry's smile… so brave and kind. She thought of Harry dipping his head… slowly… slowly…

She thought of Dean.

"Just kiss him."

"Okay," Ginny said softly. "Okay."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Later…_

In the darkness of the corridor, illuminated only by one flickering torch, Dean Thomas towered over Ginny Weasley.

A tight knot appeared in her stomach as she stared up at him. Beyond his lean shoulder, the orange light drowned in deep pools of darkness, threatening to lose itself forever in their grasp. His face was caught in the battle of shadows and light, masking most of his features save his eyes. And his eyes, brighter and clearer than they normally were, glittered with a hungry, wanton expression.

Was this how Harry had looked before kissing Cho?

Ginny swallowed nervously. She ran her tiny fingers through her too straight hair and shifted edgily.

Dean licked his lips.

"So," he said with a soothing voice. "Are you happy for me?"

"What?"

"I made the team… isn't that what we always wanted?"

"Sure…"

He stepped closer and leaned in. In the darkness, his lips parted. She could smell the mint on his breath. His eyes closed and he began to breathe harder.

She pulled away sharply. "No… wait…"

He clicked his tongue and pulled up, annoyed. "Aren't you going to congratulate me? Don't you understand? I made the team! Like I always should have!" He tried to lean in again.

Ginny brought her hands up and laid them flat on his chest, shoving him slightly. She glared up at him as a sharp pain ran through her ribs, shunting her nervousness aside.

"Sure," she said, her voice carefully steady. "Congratulations. Been to see Katie yet? I heard she's in quite a bit of pain."

Dean frowned. "Look," he said irritably. "I didn't want it that way! Katie's my friend too… not just yours."

Ginny grimaced. "Right… right… sorry…"

"But I'm not going to let that affect my happiness. Potter should have chosen me in the first place anyway! He only picked Demelza because she's pretty and he wants to…"

"You stop right there, Dean Thomas," she said hotly. Images of Demelza simpering about Harry flashed in her mind. "She's good, you know," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Better than me?" Anger and hurt flashed in his eyes.

Ginny sighed. Always. It always turns this way. "No, Dean," she said, trying to force gentleness in her tone. "No one is better than you."

"Then why did he choose her?"

Ginny sighed. "And I suppose you think he only chose me because I'm pretty too, huh?"

All of a sudden he looked panicked. Typical. "No! Uh… that is to say… uh… I mean… you're pretty… but…"

"But not as good as you, Dean?"

"No! I mean… uh… that is to say…"

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this night to turn out like this." He buried his face in one hand for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

Ginny looked away and bit her lip. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the flickering torch. She never imagined it would be this way either…

"Look, no, I'm sorry Dean…"

But then he looked up and placed one finger on her lips. "No," he said firmly. "I apologize. I was being a git."

"Yes you were…"

"Shh," he said. He stepped closer. "What I meant to say was yes, I'm sorry Katie is in the hospital. I was worried sick. I still am. But…"

He shrugged, still keeping his finger pressed against her lips. The intensity in his eyes burned into her. And, despite herself, she could feel a stirring in her stomach.

"But no amount of worrying will help her. She wouldn't want us all to be so depressed anyway. So…"

He stepped closer. She tried to step back, but couldn't get her feet to move. His eyes, deep and dark as midnight, drew her in. What was wrong with her?

"So I wanted to celebrate, that's all. With you. You." He gulped softly. "You inspired me to be good enough to make the team. With Katie gone… well, I had to take the chance, you see?"

And Ginny tried to remember that Dean had just insulted Demelza and herself; she tried to remember that Dean now hung out with Cormac; she tried to remember that Dean was partly to blame for landing her in the hospital.

But all she could remember was that Harry kissed Cho. Not her… Cho.

All she could think about was that nobody ever looked at her the way Dean was now. Nobody longer for her the way Dean did now. Not Michael Corner…

Not Harry Potter.

"Do you see?" He whispered. "That is why, in my moment of triumph, I wanted to share that with you… my inspiration… my Ginny…"

And when would she be anybody else's inspiration? When would she be anybody else's Ginny?

He leaned in slowly, his eyes wide open this time. He gently took his finger from her lips. She still felt the imprint of him. When would anybody touch her like this?

"Ginny…"

When would anybody want to lean into her like this? When would anybody want to love her… to have her… to… to…

She felt tears begin to sting her eyes.

"Yes, Ginny…"

He was getting closer. Suddenly his entire face filled her world. He was there… so solid. So real. Nothing like Harry ever was in her dreams. Dean was real. Harry, the Harry who loved her and longed for her, was not… and would never be.

She longed to know how it felt to be loved. She longed to know how it felt to be needed. She longed to know how it felt to be inspiring.

Demelza's words whispered softly in her ear.

"Just kiss him…"

Just kiss him… and know.

In this secret corridor hidden from the world, Ginny Weasley knew that she had come to a point in her life when she would have to make a choice. Beyond the walls, she heard the laughter of carefree people ring out and insult her for her fear and her dreams. The darkness she found herself plunged into, created by the hulking shadow of Dean Thomas, seemed to tease her in its false blanket. The emptiness that gripped her heart hurt more than any bludger could.

She looked up at Dean.

She had nothing. She was just forever going to be the empty shell of a girl taken into a chamber of secrets. She was just forever going to be the youngest child of a family of accomplishments. She was just forever going to be the sister of the best friend of the man she… she loved.

She wanted to know.

Just kiss him… and know.

Slowly, tentatively, she raised her hand and cupped Dean's cheek. He smiled hungrily. She stepped close.

"Okay…"

Just kiss him.

She leaned in close and squeezed her eyes shut…. But closing her eyes could not hide the image of Harry that came to her: Harry soaring through the heavens on a shiny red broomstick… Harry holding aloft a golden snitch, triumph etched in every line of his beautiful face… Harry drawing Cho Chang close…

Just kiss him.

And before she could change her mind, she pulled Dean Thomas to her and pressed her lips against his. Her lips were stiff and his lips were stiff… but she could feel the longing in him…

She thought of Harry skipping a stone across the lake… Harry holding her close as he and Fawkes brought her out of the Chamber… Harry laughing at some stupid, stupid thing that she did…

She grabbed Dean harder and pushed against him furiously. He was breathing so hard… so much longing… he needed her so much…

'Just this once,' Ginny thought desperately. 'Please…'

She moaned softly. She thought of Harry drawing her close under the invisibility cloak, laughing with her… saving her…

Stop it. Stop it.

Dean tried to part her lips with his tongue. Not yet… not yet…

She felt the tears that she was blocking so desperately begin to flow. Dean pushed her against the wall, her ribs protesting sharply at the impact. He began to pant as he kissed her… ferociously… savagely…

"Oh Ginny," he whispered in between kisses.

No… wait… no…

And then the door opened.

In that instant, Ginny knew who was there. She could feel him… she could always feel him. No… not like this… don't let him see this… stop… stop…

But she couldn't stop. Not in time. And Dean pushed at her even more…

"Oi!"

Oh God… Ron was there too. She shoved Dean back. Please Ron…

"What?" she said. And there they were… Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter staring at her. Judging her. Hating her.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

Public? Ron gazed at her with absolute anger. And Harry… why did he have to come here? Why now? Why didn't he say anything?

"This was a deserted corridor until you came butting in!" She screamed. Fine. If Ron wanted to do this… fine. At least she wouldn't have to look at Harry.

"Er… c'mon Ginny. Let's go to the common room…" Dean's voice was light. Hah, of course it was light. This was his moment of triumph after all. Suddenly, she couldn't stand to be near him.

"You go!" she said. "I want a word with my dear brother!" Please leave… please leave…

And Dean left. Harry, she couldn't help but notice, stared after him with a strange look on his face. She wanted to scream at him. Why didn't he say anything? Why did he just have to stand there… judging her…

"Right," she turned back to Ron and tossed her long red hair out of her face. "Let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron…"

"Yeah it is!" said Ron, angrily. "D'you think I want people saying my sister's a…"

"A what?" Why would he call her that? Why would he call her that in front of Harry? "A what, exactly?" She drew her wand angrily and felt the rage bubble dangerously close to the surface. Why did Harry have to come… why?

"He didn't mean anything, Ginny…"

Now he was talking to her? Huh? Now? Now that Ron was calling her a… a… Did that mean he agreed with him?

"Oh yes he does!" she screamed at Harry. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Aunt Muriel…"

And she felt it slipping… her control, her foundations, her defenses… all crumbling away like a fading dream.

"Shut your mouth!" Ron was screaming at her now. Good. Better him than Harry. But who was he to judge…

"No I will not!" she yelled. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

And now he pulled out his wand too. Good…. A fight. Pathetic loser…at least Dean had wanted her. Who wanted Ron?

Then Harry stepped between them. For a moment, her heart caught in her throat. There was something in his eyes as they looked at her. Pain? Was he angry with her? But… why would he be unless…

"You don't know what you're talking about," yelled Ron, shattering the moment. "Just because I don't do it in public…"

Ginny let out a shriek of laughter. "Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

And Ron threw a spell at her. There, right under Harry's arm. Harry shoved Ron up against the wall. Ginny's throat was on fire.

"Don't be stupid," Harry muttered. For a moment, her heart rose. Harry was defending her. And then reality struck. Of course Harry would defend her. He had snogged too, hadn't he? Snogged that… that…

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" she screamed. And there they came… those tears that she never wanted Harry to see. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum! It's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you got as much experience as a twelve year old!"

The tears were coming. No… she had to get away… away from Ron…

Away from Harry.

Away from the dream that could never be.

She sobbed and stormed down the hall.

She had to get away…

And so she did. She ran down the long corridors of Hogwarts. On the way, she briefly heard Dean calling her.

Dean was so sure in his victory; so sure in his conquest.

She ignored. She ran through the darkness, she ran through the despair, and she ran through the pain. Her feet echoed in the halls as she plodded through, roughly shoving people out of the way. Her tears flowed. Her soul ached.

And she ran. She ran from time. She ran from hope.

There… at the end of the hall… at the end of the darkness… there was light. She reached for it, aching and fearing, and she almost had it. But it was not to be. Her foot caught on a loose stone in the floor. Her momentum carried her forward and downward, and as her chin smashed into the floor, she knew that this would be a painful, painful end… and a lesson to be learned for the foolish of heart.

Never rush… for in rushing lies damnation.

And she fell. She felt like she was falling forever, but in truth it must have been half a second. Her chin slammed into the ground, jarring what little thoughts remained. Her hand slapped the stone cold floor, and she felt a sharp twinge sear her wrist. Her vision whitened quickly, and an odd buzzing sound echoed in her ears.

She tasted blood.

Then the world came crashing down on her. A wall of sound slammed into her; the voices of the people mocking her, the footsteps of the people judging her, and the deafening roar of a dream's death.

And there she stayed, with tears in her eyes and blood in her mouth. She had made her choice… and she felt she was bound by it. She could not see anyway around it. He had seen her with him… and he had judged her. How could she face him now? How could she dream of him now? How could she hope?

All she could do now is live with what she chose.

And hope that what she chose was the right thing after all.

Feeling her emptiness rear its ugly head, she closed her eyes and tried to cry.

But there were no more tears left.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But time, as they say, passes. And although it does not heal all wounds, it heals most.

Ginny Weasley was not weak, she never has been and she never will be. For she is a fighter, brave and strong, and fight through her despair she did. And as Hogwarts finally gave in to Winter's embrace, Ginny slowly put herself back together, achingly, painfully, until she was almost whole again.

Almost.

For no matter how much she tried, no matter how much she wanted to accept her decision and live with it, there would forever be, she believed, a small part of her that would never be filled… never be whole again.

But despite this, she pushed on and attempted as wholeheartedly as she could to be as happy as she once was. And she almost... almost… managed to convince herself. But for those who truly knew her, and for those who truly loved her, Ginny's happiness seemed forced and her time with Dean not quite as joyful as love should be.

But Ginny Weasley is a fighter. She had made her choice, and she would stick with it, however forced her happiness was.

And so it came to pass that Christmas, that time of the year of presents and eggnog, strolled merrily into Hogwarts' hallowed halls. This Christmas was particularly special, for as the Dark Lord gathered his forces beyond the school walls, it became very apparent that happiness, when found, had to be treasured. And so, the usual parties were planned, decorations were set up, and everyone tried extra hard to be more cheerful.

And, indeed, this Christmas would have something new, something that everybody from Colin Creevey to Romilda Vane craved to partake of; for in an unusually large teacher's office, an unusually large man with an unusually large moustache announced that he would be holding a party. And Professor Slughorn would only invite the best of the best of Hogwarts school.

And of course Ginny was invited, for she is truly something special.

And of course, Harry was too.

And so let us now rejoin our heroes and heroines as they turn their attention to the social event of the year, dancing their dance of attraction and rejection, learning and yearning for that which so eludes them…

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"Wake up!"

Ginny tried to ignore her. She grabbed the lumpy pillow beneath her head and shoved it onto her face.

"Go away," she tried to say, but it likely sounded something like "Goryyay".

She could hear Hermione humph. Go away, Ginny pleaded silently. But suddenly a blinding white light struck her face as Hermione savagely pulled the pillow away.

"Hey," Ginny said sharply. "What are you…"

Hermione sat on her bed, her face set in an unmistakable pout. She glared at Ginny, but she somehow gathered that she wasn't really the target of this anger. "Ginny. Is it wrong for me to say that I hate your brother."

Ginny sat up and sighed. It seemed that they were having this conversation all too often lately.

"What did he do now?" she asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It had been a good nap… but of course it was too good to last.

Rather than answer, Hermione stood up and strode over to the full-length mirror that stood at the end of the room. Arnold, from his cage beside it, purred at her.

"He's such an idiot! He started mocking me in class, all to impress that stupid, blond haired little tramp!"

Of course he did.

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and stared at herself in the mirror.

"Do I really look like a wild haired harpy when I want to recite in class?"

Ginny stifled a laugh. She stood up and walked over to Hermione and stood beside her, sharing the mirror.

"He really said that?" she asked at Hermione's reflection.

"Well… he mimed it really."

"Ignore him. He's nothing but a bloody git. Especially for going after Lavender like that."

Then she scowled. In the past few weeks since the incident in the corridor, she and Ron had shared a somewhat civilized peace. But she couldn't help but feel an intense surge of anger for him whenever she saw Hermione in pain.

And there was a lot of that recently.

She sighed and guided Hermione back to the bed. She sat her down and contemplated her. Hermione looked up, an unsure expression set on her face.

"Um… what?"

Ginny cocked her head, an idea forming slowly.

"Ask someone else to the party."

"What?" Hermione looked surprised.

"Look," Ginny said simply. "I know you like my brother. I've always known."

Hermione gasped and placed a hand on her mouth. Her face turned scarlet.

"But… but…"

Ginny laughed. "I'm young… but I'm not stupid you know."

"But how did you…"

"It wasn't that hard." Her smile faltered a bit. "All I had to do was check if you were acting the way I did around Harry."

"But I never… you know… ran away from him or…"

Now Ginny turned scarlet herself. "I don't mean the stupid running away! I mean the… the sidelong glances you throw at him, that silly smile on your face when he touches your shoulder, the quickness of your breath when you see him…"

Hermione stood up and hid her face quickly.

"Ginny!"

"What? I know you Hermione! Besides… I notice everything!" She said the last bit with an air of triumph.

Hermione peered at her. "You do, do you?"

"Yup! There's no getting past my keen insight!"

"Really?" And there was an edge in Hermione's voice that gave Ginny pause. "Do you now?"

And now Ginny squinted at her. "Why… what do you mean?"

Hermione's face turned back to a more normal complexion. "Well," she said, just a tad haughtily. "If you really noticed everything…"

"Yes?"

"Well… you do know that Harry is going to the party with Luna Lovegood, right?"

Ginny's eye twitched. "Er… so?"

"Oh nothing," Hermione said idly. "I just thought you'd like to know."

"And why would I?" Ginny said, a little hotly. "What do I care?"

But she did care. She couldn't help it. Harry and Luna…

"So what?"

Hermione looked at her pointedly. "Nothing."

A long moment passed between them.

"Do you think… do you think he likes her?"

"Why?" asked Hermione, a twinkle in her eyes. "What do you care?"

"Nothing," Ginny quickly averted her gaze. "I don't…" She straightened her shoulders. She knew what Hermione was doing. "So what? I really don't care. I'm going with Dean anyway."

"Sure, sure."

"And I'm happy with that!"

"Sure, sure."

"Oh shut up Hermione."

Hermione grinned for a moment. "No, I'm sorry Ginny. I'm just teasing." But then she sagged slightly. "I don't know what to do Ginny. You're right… I think I… I think I like him."

"Who, Harry?"

"Absolutely not! Ron!"

"Glad to hear you finally admit it." Ginny grinned.

"Yeah, yeah… but… what do I do?"

Ginny leered at her wickedly. "I'm telling you. Ask someone else! Make him jealous… like you did with Viktor."

Hermione's eyes widened. "He got jealous?"

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ginny rolled her eyes. "He was insane with jealousy!"

Hermione giggled.

"Well… I suppose…"

"I could set you up, you know. I know a few guys…"

Hermione bent her head for a moment and stared at her fingers. She was quiet for quite awhile before she lifted her head again.

"No… no."

Ginny was alarmed at the sudden sadness that settled in Hermione's eyes.

"Hermione…"

"No. I know who."

"Who?"

"You'll see…"

"Who?"

You'll see." Hermione said firmly. "And so will Ron."

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_The night of the party…_

"I can't believe she's going to go with Cormac!" Dean laughed loudly, his arm draped carelessly over Ginny's shoulders. "What a match, huh? Who would've thought…"

Ginny shrugged his arm off, carefully smoothing her dress. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Cormac's such a big man on campus. And Hermione…"

He turned to her and gave a grin. "Well, she's just so… plain, right?"

Ginny wheeled on him angrily, stopping in the middle of the corridor. They had been on the way to Slughorn's office, resplendent in their dress attire. As such, a multitude of students stood watching them, most of them rather enviously. Ginny jabbed a finger into Dean's chest.

"Listen here, Dean!" She said angrily.

The watching crowd gasped. Trouble in paradise?

"Uh… Ginny…" Dean mumbled looking around anxiously. "What are you…?"

She cut him off with a hiss. "Hermione is someone special. And McLaggen is nothing but a chauvinistic…"

But now Dean cut her off.

"Hey! Don't badmouth him! He may just be the most popular…"

"Who cares?" Ginny found her voice reaching a Hermione-like shrill. "You should have done everything you could to talk him out of going with her. If he hurts her…"

As the crownd grew bigger, Dean stepped close and grabbed her hand.

"Okay," his voice gentler. But his eyes still blazed. "I'm sorry, ok? I'll… I'll keep an eye out for her. Just…"

He leaned in and whispered. "Just stop making a scene!"

Ginny pulled back, her own eyes blazing. "A scene? A scene?" She scowled. "You don't seem to mind making a scene when you're making me…"

She blushed furiously.

"When you're making me kiss you in public!"

And then his eyes took on the character of a rabbit who had just seen a dragon.

"But you like it! I ask you… and you say you like it!" His voice was higher now.

She clenched her fist. She was losing it… all that she had worked for… the stability, the control… she was losing it.

She sighed.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I do. Okay. You keep an eye out on him then."

"Okay," he calmed down. "Let's just… let's just go, okay? And smile! People are watching."

She forced a smile. Was it really worth it?

"Okay."

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. As Dean left her to, ostensibly, check on McLaggen, Ginny walked over to the nearest eggnog bowl and poured herself a cup. She drank it gratefully, feeling the warm, thick liquid coat her throat. She poured herself another, and walked slowly around the crowded room.

She found herself greeting people she knew here and there; professors, other students, and coworkers of her father at the ministry. But each time she met them, she just wished to be left alone. She wondered what she was doing here, dragged to a party she didn't want to go to with someone who she didn't want to go with…

No. Dangerous territory.

She sighed and drank some more eggnog. A sharp laugh caught her ear. It was a sweet laugh, low and deep, and full of equal measures of power and kindness. Only one person she knew had that laugh.

She turned towards the sound and frowned. Harry Potter stood with Professor Slughorn, another short portly man, and a tall gaunt… vampire? She shrugged… and then caught sight of Luna Lovegood standing just to Harry's right.

Luna wore a shimmering silver dress that caught the light as it rippled on her skin. She looked beautiful.

Ginny scowled down at her outfit, a plain blue affair that did nothing at all for her hair or her complexion. No wonder Harry wanted to go with Luna. He deserved someone who was as beautiful as he was.

She turned quickly away and ran right smack into Hermione. Hermione also looked beautiful tonight, no doubt hoping that Ron would catch sight of her with the, admittedly, handsome Cormac McLaggen. Ginny sighed softly. Why was everyone prettier than her?

"Ginny! Have you seen him?" Hermione asked urgently.

Ginny looked bewildered. "Harry? He's right…"

"Not Harry! What's wrong with you?" She lowered her voice. "Cormac!"

"Cormac? No… why?"

Hermione glanced quickly over her shoulder. "I've got to get away from him. He keeps…"

She blushed.

"He keeps wanting me to…."

She blushed even more. She leaned in to Ginny and whispered what exactly it was that Cormac kept wanting to do.

Ginny leapt back, startled. "That's horrible!"

"I know! And he keeps trying to catch me under the mistletoe…"

"Where's Dean?" Ginny asked quickly, ugly thoughts invading her mind.

"Dean? I don't know. I saw him over there somewhere." She waved absently toward the back. "I think I saw him talking to someone…"

And then her eyes widened. "I've got to go. He's coming this way…."

Ginny patted her wand, hidden strapped to her leg. "Do you want me to…"

"No, no… Bye! See you later!"

And with a swish of one not so bushy ponytail, Hermione dashed off in the other direction.

Ginny scowled. So, Dean was going to watch out for Hermione, eh? Some job he was doing.

She slammed the empty cup of eggnog down on the floor and stormed towards the direction Hermione waved at. She was seething. He had better be talking to someone extremely important or…

She must have not been looking where she was going, for all of a sudden she slammed into someone quite sharply.

"Oof!"

"Oh," a high female voice returned.

Ginny looked up and stared at Luna Lovegood's perpetually bemused face. "

"Oh, hi Ginevra!" Luna said brightly. "Are you having fun?"

Ginny scowled and tried to push around her. "Not now, Luna," she said through gritted teeth.

Luna looked slightly offended. "Now, now Ginevra. There's no need to snap. I'm not snogging him, you know."

"What?" And now she paused to look up at Luna's iridescent blue eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Luna smiled. "Why, Harry Potter, of course. I'm not snogging him. He only asked me out as a friend."

Ginny blushed.

"Why would… what do I care? You can snog him all you want!"

Luna twittered. "Ginevra, I know you are in love with him! It is just so plain to see!"

"I'm not! I'm with Dean!"

Luna looked surprised. "Oh really? Good heavens! I must be mistaken then… I'm sorry!"

And then her eyes widened. "Oh dear," she said as she looked up.

Ginny, mumbling something about having to go somewhere, couldn't help herself. "What?"

Luna pointed above Ginny's head. She was standing under a bright green sprig of mistletoe. "You must be careful Ginevra dear," she said urgently. "Didn't you know that mistletoe is part of a top secret plot by the garden gnomes to take over the world?"

Ginny gaped at her. Huh?

"What?"

"It's true," Luna said, matter of fact. "My father said so. The gnomes use the mistletoe to enchant young lovers to kiss under it. And then, when they do, they use a complicated spell involving pygmy puff hair and bat drool to turn the lovers into gnomes! They're just like vampires! In fact, it is a little known fact that vampires are actually garden gnomes all grown up."

Ginny squirmed. "Uh…"

"Wait," Luna said concernedly as she peered at her. "You have pygmy puff, don't you?"

"Uh… yeah but…"

Luna smiled. "Don't let him out of your sight! Just be careful, okay? Oh look… here comes Harry." She smiled over Ginny's shoulder and waved.

Ginny glanced back. Harry was walking towards them, a strange expression on his face. Ginny puzzled over it… ever since he had caught her and Dean in the corridor, it seemed that every time he looked at her… it was with that same strange expression.

She squirmed again.

It made her feel equal parts terrified and excited.

Harry pulled up. "Hi Luna," he said brightly. "Uh… hi Ginny."

"Hi," she said softly. Somehow, she couldn't quite meet Harry's eyes.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Luna said airily. "I have just been educating Ginny on the secret plot of the garden gnomes."

Harry grinned. " I was… elsewhere…" he said distractedly.

Luna looked over his shoulder. "Oh, there's Professor McGonagall. Please excuse me, you two, I simply must tell her to do something about all this mistletoe."

"What mistletoe?" Harry asked.

Luna looked pointedly over Ginny's head.

Harry looked up and almost dropped the crystal goblet he was carrying. He blushed. "Oh… that mistletoe…"

He grinned sheepishly at Ginny, and then began to idly scan the crowd.

And as Luna left, she turned to peer intently at Ginny. "Be careful," she whispered. "The gnomes have great power… I can see them beginning to affect Harry now…"

And with that, she left.

Harry and Ginny stood rooted on that spot, each shifting uncomfortably as they tried to look anywhere but at each other. The sounds of the party seemed to fade away; the tinkling of the glasses, the chattering of the guests, the rustling of the clothes… all evaporated. All that was left was the icy cold sound of the mistletoe rustling gently overhead.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said.

And he smiled. "Are you enjoying the party, Ginny?"

She shrugged. "So-so. You?"

"So-so."

Harry scratched nervously at his neck. Through the open collar, Ginny saw that his neck had turned a charming shade of scarlet. Heat crawled up her back.

"Ummm…" she said nervously. Why was she nervous?

Think of Dean… Think of Dean…

"So…" he said.

"So Luna looks lovely tonight." Ginny said quickly. Yeah, that's it… remind him that he has a date…

Harry cocked his head. "Really?"

"Yeah. What a beautiful dress…"

Harry pursed his lips. "I dunno… I kinda like yours better…"

He coughed as she felt a thrill rush through her. "I mean…" and then he looked at her, his eyes twinkling. "You look beautiful tonight, Ginny. I hope you know that."

And then, out of the blue, Ginny realized that he had never said that to her before. Before she could do anything about it, she trembled softly. "Thanks…" she whispered. And, fleetingly, she wondered if Dean had complimented her that night.

He cleared his throat. "So," he said. "Uh, what was that all about the gnomes?"

Ginny laughed. "Oh, Luna said that mistletoe was all a part of a gnome conspiracy. Apparently, uh, the gnomes want people to kiss…"

She turned away self-consciously.

"Uh… so… there."

Harry stared at her. "Well, that would explain the tradition then…" His voice trailed off.

Ginny looked up at him, feeling a tremor in her stomach. "Yeah…"

And suddenly, Ginny felt the rest of the world fade from view. It was just her and Harry now… there, standing under the bright green sprig of mistletoe.

Unbidden, the words of Demelza Robins returned to her mind.

Just kiss him.

No.

Just kiss him.

No.

A bead of sweat slid gently down her cheek.

Just kiss him.

Harry reached over and wiped it off, smiling slightly.

Just kiss him…

Just…

"Oh… Harry…" she said.

Harry jolted as if electrocuted. He leaned towards her slowly, ever so slowly. Ginny tingled from the tips of her clenched toes to the very center of her soul. She leaned in slowly…

Ever so slowly.

The world tilted as she closed her eyes… and as she leaned forward, she felt the ground begin to drop away leaving her floating on a cloud of something that was not quite stable.

And then Harry coughed and pulled back. She opened her eyes and saw him gazing back at her, a sad expression in his eyes. He glanced up quickly at the sprig of mistletoe. He looked back down at her and stepped carefully back.

Her world came flooding back; her world of shame and sorrow, her world of Mrs. Weasley and Ron, her world of Tom Riddle and Dean Thomas. The lightness in her belly faded, and her heart beat so loud she thought her head would burst.

"I think Dean is looking for you," he said softly.

Ginny felt her breath hitch in her throat. Dean. Right.

And she backed away as well.

"Um… yeah. Okay Harry. Okay."

He smiled. He leaned closer and, for just a moment, filled up Ginny's entire world. Gently, ever so gently, he kissed her cheek. His lips were warm. Soft. Tender.

Ginny closed her eyes, savoring it.

And then Harry was gone, dashing off for somewhere where Ginny could not follow. And Ginny stood there, swaying slightly.

Alone.

"Goodbye, Harry."

And everything came crashing back; the tinkling and the chattering and the roaring and the mocking. She glanced up bitterly at the sprig of mistletoe and dashed off, tears stinging and threatening to flow freely once again.

But then she caught sight of Harry Potter… there, just by the door. He stared at her for a long moment, surely savoring the sight of her just as much as she was the sight of him.

He smiled.

She smiled, her heart lifting once again.

"See you at the Burrow," he whispered… and somehow, from across the room, she heard every word.

And as she joined Dean Thomas, as she felt him grab her hand limply, she felt a lightness in her being that surely belonged to someone else. But she didn't care. She savored it, closed her eyes, and mouthed over and over the words that she shouldn't care about so much:

"You look beautiful tonight, Ginny."

And somehow she knew that he hadn't just meant her fiery red hair swept up in a French twist; nor did he just mean the shimmering blue dress that hugged her tightly in all the right places or the dainty makeup Hermione had leant her.

"You look beautiful tonight, Ginny."

And, for the first time in a long while, she believed it.


	5. Chapter 5: Christmas at The Burrow

_Author's note: This chapter takes place the day after Scrimgeor visited the Burrow._

P.S. Again, a difficult chapter to write ran into a severe case of writer's block halfway through, but someone helped me immensely. So, Kathy, thank you very much. And I love you.

P.P.S. Made some tiny revisions for spelling and stuff.

CHAPTER 5: Christmas at the Burrow 

In the attic that Ron Weasley and Harry Potter used as a bedroom while staying at The Burrow, Harry slammed his head sharply on the desk in front of him.

"Ow!"

Gingerly, he rubbed his forehead as he sat up again, wincing a bit as his vision took time to clear. He looked down at the mess before him and sighed.

Why was this so difficult?

It was a question that he had been asking himself for the better part of an hour. He was Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, the boy who lived through Voldemort attacks, Basilisks, Dementors, Dragons, werewolves and so much more… and he could not accomplish this one, simple task. He hadn't even come close.

Spread out before him was a mass of parchment and catalogues, 36 in all, each coming from a different order-by-owl wizard store. Most of them were filled with bright moving pictures of some of the most fetching women he had ever laid eyes on, each suggestively begging him to order their clothes. Others were laden with images of so many sparkling jewlels that his eyes hurt. And others yet were plain and simple Muggle magazines, with names like Harrods and Marks and Spencer.

He had been collecting these catalogues all throughout the term, hoping that by the time Christmas had come along, he would have finally made his decision. Leave it to him to leave things to the last minute…

He ran a hand through his shaggy hair in frustration and leafed through them. Madam Nancy's Emporium, Van Outen's Dress Shop, A Very Pretty One Dresser… Harry had never seen so many clothes in his life. How in heaven's name could he pick one? Does he pick that shiny silver gown thing with the diamond things? Does he pick that green number with the white gloves and long tail thingy? Or what about going casual and choosing that… that pinstripe-y t-shirt thing with all the buttons? Or perhaps he should pick that…

And what about all those jewelry? They all look the same! Tiaras… rings… necklaces… bracelets… anklets… Bloody hell!

Why was it so difficult? All he had to do was pick the one Christmas present… the one outfit or the one piece of jewelry that would…

That would what? Make her forget about Dean? Make her want him so bad that's she'll just drop her boyfriend for him? Huh? Is that what he wanted?

Harry smashed his head into the desk again.

"Ow."

Hedwig, stowed away in her cage, hooted reproachfully at him.

"I know, I know," he muttered. He leaned back in his chair and looked around the room, hoping for some flash of inspiration… something that would make everything just… right.

And then he heard it.

Gentle laughter drifted up through the open window in front of him. It was a sweet, high laugh, one that was filled with promise and hope, and in turn filled him with an unfathomably comforting sensation. There was only one person he knew could make him feel like that.

He stood up eagerly and gazed out of the window that overlooked the garden. In the blossoming sunlight of the Christmas dawn, Ginny Weasley squealed with laughter as she pranced around the lawn hurling great globs of snow at her brothers Fred and George. Harry smiled as her fiery red hair danced about, enticingly alive with each step she took. Her eyes glimmered with that mixture of mischief and delight that he had come to… that he had come to… well… best not to think of her that way…

Pausing in her merriment, she glanced up at Harry's window and smiled shyly. Harry tried to grin back, but as always happened when she looked at him now, he found that he couldn't move. His stomach clenched in a close approximation of pain, his muscles locked agonizingly, and he felt his heart beat just that much faster.

Then she looked away, and he silently cursed himself for his hormones. But he still couldn't move. Even from so high up, he could still see the soft curve of her cheek… the way the corner of her mouth twitched right before she smiled… the slender lines of her neck as they disappeared into her jumper…

"She ees very beautiful, ees she not?" A soft voice came from beside him.

Harry gasped and threw himself back from the window so quickly that for a moment, just a moment, the world seemed to sway. He blinked and stared at the tall, willowy woman standing beside him. She was looking down at him with an unreadable expression in her large blue eyes, silvery blond hair framing her elegant face. Her full lips were turned up in a smile so bewitching that Harry forgot to breathe.

One would think that he'd be used to her by now.

"Oh," he said trying not to stutter. "Hi Phle… er… Fleur. What are you… er… talking about?"

"Aree," she said as she bent down to him. She stopped just inches from his face. Her breath was warm and her skin smelled of slightly musky vanilla. Her eyes, deep and luminous, bore into him. Her lips were bright pink and looked very, very moist.

He gulped. "Y-yes?"

"Aree Potter… why are you looking at women's clotheeng?"

Her voice was the sunrise itself.

He shook off her spell and hastily tried to cover the catalogues with his arms.

"I am not…"

She cooed, an ethereal noise which made Harry want to sit up and beg. Think of Ginny, he told himself. Think of Ginny. He squeezed his eyes shut as Fleur gently touched his hand, tracing delicately long fingers down its length, and slowly nudging it aside.

Think of Ginny.

He risked a peek as she stood beside him for a very long time without saying anything. She stared intently at the catalogues for a long moment. Then, she shook her head slowly, allowing her hair to dance in the stillness of the air. She looked at him languidly through a shimmering curtain of silvery blond.

"Thees weel not do, 'Aree," she said in dulcet tones.

He shook his head quickly. "Wh-what?"

"For Ginny. Thees weel not do at all…" And when she smiled, her ravishing smile of unearthly beauty, all Harry could think about was the twitching, laughing, smiling corner of Ginny's mouth. The world came back sharply into focus and Fleur, with another smile, drew back from him, a catalogue grasped in her hand.

Then the room filled with the scent of Mrs. Weasley's pot roast, drifting in from the open door. As she glided about the room, running her fingers disdainfully across dusty wardrobes, Harry heard the clamor of the Weasleys below… the banging chairs, the clanging silverware, the sizzling of the food… and that sweet, sweet laugh which he had come to… well… best not to think about that.

Fleur turned to him again.

"Mon Dieu… my sister Gabrielle weel be so very much disappointed… Oh the sorrow we weel 'ave to endure…" she raised a slender hand to her forehead in an affected hopelessness.

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?" Now that she was away from him… now that he had the image of fiery red sunsets and bright brown eyes locked into his mind… somehow he could think clearly again.

"Why 'Aree, Gabrielle 'ad 'oped that by next summer, she could come here and… what ees that English word… oh yes, 'snog' you."

Harry blushed a deep scarlet and found that he couldn't meet her eyes.

"Well… um… that is…"

"But of course," she said, approaching him slowly. "That ees impossible now." She cocked her head and smiled at him. On someone else, the smile could be called mischievous. "Why… you are een love!"

"L-Love!" he sputtered. "I'm not… no…"

She leaned in and placed a finger to his lips. "Shhh," she said softly. "'Aree, I think I know something about love. So do not argue weeth me. Oui?"

Harry scowled at her for a moment, then sighed and slouched back in his chair. "Okay… okay." He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It's just that… I can't be in love with her…"

"Why not?"

He opened his eyes. She was perched on the edge of his bed, her long legs tucked beneath her, her head cocked slightly, and her hands clasped on her lap. She had a bemused expression on her face.

He scowled.

"She's with someone else."

"So?" she asked, matter-of-factly.

He couldn't believe his ears. "So?" he said incredulously. "So? So… I can't be in love with her!"

"Why?"

"Because! If I were…?"

"Yes?"

"Well I…"

"Well you… what?" Her voice was light and airy.

"I just…" he fumbled.

"Just…?"

"If she…"

"If she… what?"

"SHUT UP!" He roared at her as he leapt up in frustration. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

She stood up slowly and began to walk to him. He turned away from her, his blood roiling with a surprising mixture of anger and fear. Fleur, who was a bit taller than him, bent down a little so that her face was right in front of him. No matter how angry he was at this moment… well, there was something calming in those luminous eyes of hers.

"'Aree," she said warmly when she reached him. She reached up and cupped his face with her soft hands. "Eet ees ok, you know. Eet weel all be alright."

He stared at her petulantly. "How can it, Fleur? Every time I think of her… every time I see her… I … I…" His voice caught in his throat.

"Shh," she said. "Do not give up." Her eyes suddenly lost a bit of that incandescent glow, replaced by something he had never seen in her before… a kind of gentle sadness, tinged with regret and hope. "I 'ave not given up yet."

"What do you mean?"

To his horror, a large sparkling tear slid gently down her cheek. "I love Bill," she said in a voice softer than twilight. "I love him… but eet ees so hard when nobody else loves me. I try and try… but eet ees only Bill of course who loves me. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley… everyone. No one. They don't love me. They do not accept me."

She sniffed.

"But I keep trying, 'Aree." She smiled grimly. "I keep trying because I love Bill. And I 'ave to believe that… someday… eet weel all be alright. That ees what love ees, after all. Eet ees an effort. But eet is worth eet. I made thees choice… and I belive I chose right."

The tear reached her chin and pooled there for a moment, dangling in the scant hope of survival, before dropping down into oblivion.

As Harry and Fleur stared at each other for a long moment, Harry began to feel something stirring in his heart. It was unexpected and strong… trembling in excitement and renewed hope. The silence surrounded them, engulfed them…

Harry gently reached up and wiped her cheek. He felt a warm rush for her that had nothing to do with hormones as she gently closed her eyes.

"I like you," he said. "I accept you."

"Merci, 'Aree." She said. "Merci beaucoup." And then she stood up, her face still radiantly sad. She shook her head. "But enough about me and my leetle problems." She fanned her face with one delicate hand. "Now eet ees you who desperately needs my help."

Harry smiled uncertainly. "I really don't see how you can…"

"Oh, nonsense!" she said, her voice light again. She guided him back to his chair and forcefully shoved him down. She leaned over his shoulder and peered at the catalogues before him."

Harry became uncomfortably aware that her cheek was pressed to his.

"Now, 'Aree. I know you 'ave not gotten her a gift yet. And I know she won't tell you this… but she ees really sad that you 'aven't! Eet ees already day after Christmas, 'Aree, you should already…"

"I know, I know!" he said. "It's just so…"

Her breath was warm in his ears. "But now you 'ave Fleur to 'elp you, you dear, dear boy. Now, first thing you 'ave to do is think really really hard about what she likes…"

"Harry! I…" A strong, clear voice rang out from behind him. He leapt up with a yowl, instinctively shoving Fleur away from him. Please let it not be her, please let him be wrong just this once…

But when he turned around, he saw her… all fiery haired and fiery faced.

Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway, the light of the hallway silhouetting her lithe figure. She was standing with her feet spread apart, and her arms crossed at her chest. Her expression, perhaps because of the light, was dark and unreadable.

"Fleur."

Fleur glided over to Ginny. "Oh, good morning Ginny!" she said brightly as she kissed her on the cheek. "I was just… talking to 'Aree."

"Oh," Ginny said in a low voice. "Were you now?"

Harry cringed inwardly as Fleur just made it worse.

"Oui, 'E ees a very, very sweet boy."

"Oh," Ginny said in that same low voice. "Is he now?"

"Very," she said, tossing Harry a wink. And with a flash of her silver blond hair, Fleur danced out of the room.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Ginny glared at him.

"Um… we were just…"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Potter." Ginny's voice was low and dangerous.

"No, I do…"

"Breakfast is ready," she said brusquely. "I suggest you get down there before…"

"Ginny, wait…" He had to make her understand that nothing had happened. If only she would just listen…

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to… I have to go."

And with that, she turned sharply away and stalked down the hall.

Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose again.

Women.

He stared down at the catalogues. Fine… if she wouldn't let him tell her…

Fine. He would show her.

He sat down and leafed through the catalogues. Figure out what she likes. Silly clothes. Stupid trinkets. Baubles of no importance. "No," he muttered. "These really won't do at all, will they?" What he was looking for was not here.

And then he knew what he had to do. He would have to go where the cowardly could not. He would have to face the sort of danger and peril that no amount of spellcraft could prepare him for. He would have to gird up his loins and become the legendary boy who lived, bold and daring, once again.

He would have to go shopping.

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Harry pushed back from the table and patted his painfully, but gently, swelling belly. Pot roast, pancakes, bacon, porridge… what a feast! At least all this food would help give him the strength to…

"Ooooh, Harry," Ron, seated to his left, moaned. "Please… don't let me eat like that ever again…"

Across from him, Fleur twittered. "Oh Ronald, you are so adorable!"

Ron immediately perked up. "You think so? 'Cos I can…"

"Aw, shut it Won-won or Lav-lav's gonna have your head." Ginny, seated beside Fleur, said peevishly.

Ron turned scarlet. "I was just… just…"

Harry caught Ginny staring at him. She turned away quickly, a sour expression forming on her face.

Right.

He stood up.

"Well," he said. "Thanks Mrs. Weasley… that was a wonderful meal!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had been staring at Fleur contemptuously, turned to Harry and beamed. "Oh, your welcome Harry dear."

Harry cast one last glance at Ginny, who was determinedly looking everywhere but at him, and walked out the room.

How dare she? She had no right at all to be so angry. First of all, she was with Dean. Second of all, nothing happened. Third of all, she was with Dean. Fourth of all, he was about to go breaking all these rules to go shopping for her. Fifth of all, she was with DEAN! Why does she care so much…

"Trouble, Harry?"

Harry whirled about to find Professor Lupin lounging easily by the fireplace. His face was long and haggard, but he looked a great deal healthier than he did the night before.

"No Professor," he said glumly.

Lupin smiled. "My dear boy, you know you can't lie to me. You're too much like James."

Harry sighed and joined him by the fire.

"Why is it so hard, professor?"

"What is?"

"Life."

"Ah, Harry." Lupin beamed at him, a fond expression on his face. "Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. You're father had to go through hell before Lilly fell for him too."

Harry jumped up in surprise.

"It's not… wait… no… I…"

Lupin chuckled. "I'm a werewolf, Harry, not an idiot. Ginny and Dean won't last forever…"

Harry's mind raced.

"Then help me Professor!"

"How?"

"Can you… can you take me to Diagon Alley? I need to buy something for her…"

Lupin frowned. "You know I can't Harry. Dumbledore left specific instructions not to let you out of this house."

"But I…"

"No buts, Harry. It's too dangerous, even with me there."

Harry scowled at him. They sat there for a while, listening as various footsteps ran up and down the crooked stairs of The Burrow.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said firmly. "There's nothing I can do. Perhaps you can order-by-owl…"

"No… no that's okay. Thanks anyway Professor."

And with that, he trudged up the stairs. Fine. If Lupin wouldn't do it, then certainly Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't either. But there had to be some way to get to Diagon Alley… some way. Flying by broomstick would take too long and he couldn't apparate yet, but maybe…

And then Ginny ran down the stairs. She stopped just a few feet from him, surprise etched on her face. She flushed red, was about to smile, and then quickly let her face slacken.

"Oh," she said. "It's you."

Harry licked his lips nervously. "Yeah Ginny, I, uh…"

"Mum's taking me out for a bit," she said lightly. "I need new potions ingredients for next term."

Harry brightened. "Oh, can I come with you then?"

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Why? Fleur's not coming. Wouldn't you rather stay here with your precious French flower?"

"Hey! Ginny, look…" He said, frustrated. "I keep trying to tell you, what you saw wasn't…"

"And I keep trying to tell you Potter… what you do is none of my business. You do not need to explain anything to me."

And with that, she tried to brush past him. But he reached out and grabbed her gently, but tightly, by the arm.

"Let go of…" she said as she tried to shrug him off.

"No," he said firmly.

She stood there, on the same step with him, her head bent. She looked up slowly, her hair falling limply down her face. Her eyes, normally so fiery, were guarded… hidden in the shadows.

"Let me go…" she whispered.

"No."

"Please…" Her eyes softened.

"Tell me what I can do to show you…"

"Show me what?" she asked with a resigned air. "Just what do you want to show me?

She gripped his fingers and pried them off of her with surprising strength. "Harry, I'm with Dean. You know that. No matter how…"

"What about the other night?" he said softly.

"What other night?"

He raised his hand up to her cheek and stroked it gently. "Slughorn's party, Ginny. What was that?"

She pulled away. "I don't…"

"Something happened Ginny… surely you felt it too."

She stared up at him then, and brushed back her hair from her suddenly warm eyes.

"Yes…"

"Then why…?"

"Because I can't, Harry." She said softly. She reached up and stroked her hand across his cheek as well. "I can't. I made a promise to Dean…"

"Break it."

"You know I can't do that," she said gently. Her voice hitched in her throat. "Harry… sometimes we make decisions… choices… and we just have to… to live with them… I can't just break it off simply because…"

"How do you know?" He said firmly.

She stared at him.

"How do I know what?"

"That you made the right choice?"

She turned away from him carefully, her red hair swishing in the morning light that streamed through the staircase window. "I… I don't…" Her voice trailed away.

"I made the wrong choice, once, with Cho," Harry said softly as he stepped closer to her. She slid away, hugging her arms as if for warmth, still hiding her face. "I know that now… but…"

"But what, Harry?" She whirled on him, eyes ablaze once again. "You think I'm making the wrong choice? Huh? Is that it? Do you want me to go back on my decisions… go back on my loyalty… go back on my…"

"No," he cut her off firmly. "I want you to be happy."

"But I am happy," she spat.

"No you're not."

"I'm not getting into this with you now. Just… just go away. We don't have enough time for…"

"Ginny…"

"No! It's done. It's over, I…"

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!" Ginny's mom's voice rang out from below. "I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR TOO LONG! COME DOWN AT ONCE!"

In the silence that followed, Harry and Ginny stared at each other… neither one speaking… neither one moving…. Just staring. Harry felt his heart clench as she quickly looked away, angrily wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Please, Harry," she sniffed. "I…"

"Okay," he muttered, his throat dry and his voice cracked. "Okay… I will…"

"Please. I can't… I can't DO this anymore… all the uncertainty… all the… It's just too… With Dean, I know…"

"I never meant to hurt you, Ginny," he said. "I never…"

"Please… I don't want to fight anymore… Can't we be just…"

"Okay, okay," he reached out and patted her shoulder softly. She shrank away from his touch.

"I just…"

Then she ran down the stairs. "I just… I need to go…" Her voice trailed away, leaving an empty silence filled only with the lingering summery scent of a flowering field.

And she was gone.

Harry stood there on those lonely, lonely steps for a long while, his head bowed and his fists clenched. He tried to control the roiling emotions that seemed to large for his body and felt himself slowly losing that battle.

He hurried up the stairs before he could meet anyone else.

As he made his way up to his room, he railed at himself… at his stupidity and his ego.

What was he doing? All he wanted was for Ginny to be happy, preferably with him, and all he was doing was making it worse! Why did he keep having to make things worse?

He flopped back on the bed and covered his face.

He remembered the look in her eyes as she stared at him… that shadowed, guarded glare that he knew masked something deeper… something cutting. She would never say it, but she was hurting… and he was the cause of it. If he really did feel for her the way he thought he did… maybe… maybe he should just leave her alone…

He felt a great wracking sob surge through him as he imagined a life where Ginny stayed with Dean, whom he knew now was not right for her. Ginny, trapped in a relationship where love was not the focus… where emotion stepped aside for image. Ginny, she of the radiance and overreaching potential, stifled. Stifled by lies, stifled by pain, stifled by choice…

But was she really?

The thing in his chest growled, and he sat up slowly.

By choice. She said it herself. With Dean, she had said, she knew. With Dean, she was certain. But that was a lie, wasn't it? That night in Slughorn's office, that night when he had dared hope… dared dream… that night there was a certainty in those eyes… but he knew that that certainty wasn't for Dean. He knew…

But she didn't. He had been too cowardly to do anything more than give her a chaste kiss. He had been too stupid to notice her when she was right there. He had been too indecisive to make the most important choice he would ever make.

And so she didn't know. She never had.

She had no choice because he had never given her one.

She thought she was choosing what was right for her… she thought she had no choice but to choose Dean. But making that choice was no choice at all. She was just falling for the very terror that Voldemort had worked to cause: the terror of uncertainty… the terror of not knowing… the terror of emptiness.

He thought of that night by the lake, her head pressed against his chest… against his heart. He thought of that day in the library, sharing chocolate richer than sin, her eyes twinkling as they raced out of the room being chased by Madam Pince. He thought of that night in the hospital, her ashen face smeared with yet more chocolate, gazing up at him with pain and… and hope.

"Next time, I get to save you," she had said.

Harry stared down at his hand and clenched his fist.

He thought of her in the corridor, smashed up against Dean. He thought of her face, lit up and shy, when he leaned in to kiss her cheek under the mistletoe. He thought of her voice… a voice so full of light that no darkness could hold sway while she spoke.

"Next time, I get to save you."

He nodded grimly. He had been a broken man for far too long, mostly against his wishes and his decision. He had suffered, he had triumphed, he had failed, he had succeeded…

But he was broken.

No more.

She was a haven… a calm port in a swirling maelstrom of evil and fear. She was stronger than him in many ways… and weaker too. He would not lose her. He could not.

She was peace.

There were some truths to life that he had ignored… truths so fundamental and elemental that to make choices before knowing them could only lead to despair. The first step for him was to accept those truths for himself… truths that he was hiding behind images of Cho and Dean and Voldemort and his parents, and so much more.

The second step was to make her see… make her know. She was too important to leave to chance.

If she wanted to make a choice…

He would give her a choice.

"Next time, I get to save you."

No Ginny, he thought grimly. We get to save each other.

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Diagon Alley has served as the shopping bastion of the Wizarding world for many years now. Filled with stores advertising the finest goods any wizard could ever want, it is often filled with people of all shapes and sizes, searching and seeking for anything and everything they could possibly need. Even now, the day after Christmas, Diagon Alley does not rest. It is teeming, crowded, chaotic, and covered with snow. But people still come, spurred on by either a sense of duty… or perhaps a sense of madness.

And it is into this madness that Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour apparated into.

It had not been very difficult for Harry to ask for Fleur's help. After making up his mind, he had ran into her room. And with one look at his pleading eyes, Fleur had leapt up and vouched her support for her only other non-Weasley compatriot. Harry was quite grateful for her assistance, as, seeing how he could not apparate yet, he had not been relishing a cold, long flight on his broomstick.

But they were there now, in Diagon Alley, and Harry could finally turn his attention on the task that lay before him. And all Fleur asked in return, was that she help him pick it out.

"Now 'Aree, as I was saying earlier, you must pick out sometheeng she would like, ok?"

Harry nodded, but knew that it would be no easy thing to do. As they strolled down the Alley, ducking into first one store then another, he began to think that the whole thing was going to be hopeless.

"This is hopeless Fleur!" He said an hour after their arrival. They were now sitting in the corner of a little café called Goblets R Us, sipping great steaming mugs of hot chocolate. At least the chocolate was good.

Fleur smiled daintily at him over the rim of her cup. "Do not lose the 'ope, 'Aree Potter. There are steel many, many, many shops to go."

He put his cup down and sighed, looking out the frosted window. The snow was coming down in a gentle fall, creating a hazy whiteness to the day that reflected his confusion. He watched the endless line of shoppers strolling down the alley, arms laden with all sorts of packages.

He envied them. His own arms were notable in their emptiness, although Fleur had managed to purchase ten different dresses already… and she said she was just getting started.

"I don't know," he said, taking a sip of his chocolate. "I just can't seem to find anything that I think she will like."

She peered at him in the soft firelight. "Why not? As you can see, I 'ave already found so many beautiful theengs…"

"Yes, yes," he said irritably. "I know that. But I'm not you, okay? I just have no experience at this. I don't know what I'm doing…"

His breath caught as he saw a streak of red pass the window. He looked harder through the haze and caught the unmistakable sight of Ginny Weasley walking with her mother.

She did not look happy at all as she trudged through the snow.

He stared after her for a while. What did she want? What would make her happy? What would touch her fiery little heart the way she had touched his?

"'Aree," Fleur said gently, taking his hand. "Maybe we are going about this wrong, no?"

He shook his head and looked back at her. "Huh?"

"Look at theese." She dumped her shopping bags on the table. "I bought all theese because they are beautiful and I am beautiful too. We go together very well, and I wanted them very much."

She smirked a very un-Fleur like smirk. "But I do not need them at all. As Bill keeps trying to say, I do not need so much clotheeng. Oh, I protest so much, but I know…"

She squeezed his hand. "I know I do not need them. I am beautiful no matter what I wear."

He had to give her that…

"You see? I do not need them… I just am liking them. So for me… I get what I want."

She let go and ran her hand through her soft hair. "But Ginny is very much not like me, is she not?"

"Hey," he protested. "She's every bit as beautiful as you…"

"Oh of course… of course you believe that, so I weel not argue weeth you. No 'Aree, what I mean ees that Ginny ees so much more… 'ow do you say… sensible than I."

Well, he had to give her that too…

"Go on…"

"Well… maybe we should not get 'er what she wants." She leaned in and Harry smelled that musky vanilla over the chocolate. Her eyes bored into his, piercing him with their azure sharpness. "We should get 'er what she needs."

"Needs?"

"Oui, 'Aree," she said decisively. "Theese sensible girls… they are not wanteeng theese theengs that I want. No… they are wanting theengs that they need. The… 'ow do you say… practical things. Sensible things. Useful."

She cocked her head and thought for a moment. "Maybe you can theenk of what she needs most?"

Well, Harry thought. He certainly knew what she needed. But there was nothing he could buy that would solver her problems for her. But maybe…

His eyes sparked. "Yes… YES!" He leapt up, almost knocking the table over. "I got an idea!"

He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the café.

"But where are we going, 'Aree?"

"To the Quidditch store," he said, a lightness in his voice reflecting his renewed hope. "I'm going to get her a Firebolt."

"But what ees thees Firebolt?"

"You'll see…"

And, hand in hand, they made their way through the throngs of wizards and witches at an alarming, for Fleur, speed. Harry ignored the horrified gasps she made as she brushed up against people. He strode on… sure in his decision. Ginny did quite well flying on her Clean-Sweep… but on a Firebolt… she would be a terror.

"Let's see if Dean Thomas can match this," he muttered. He knew he was being petty… and something inside him chided him for this… but he didn't care…

"Come on Fleur," he shouted over his shoulder. "The Quidditch store is right around the…"

Then he stopped suddenly. Nestled on a pedestal in the display window of the Quidditch store was the most beautiful broom he had ever seen. It was a deep varnished red, slender and powerful looking at the same time, with a pair of solid gold footholds. It fairly vibrated in its stand… calling to him. He glanced at the name etched in the handle.

_Firebolt X._

This was it. He glanced at the price. Well… it certainly was expensive. But he could afford it. He wouldn't be able to buy anything major until next year…

But Ginny was worth it.

Fleur cocked her head. "Is thees it? Is thees what you want to get for her?"

He nodded greedily, still taking in the Firebolt's sleek lines. Maybe he could get one for himself too…

"'Aree… theenk for a moment," Fleur said into his ear. "Would she really like thees?"

"Of course she would," he snapped. "She loves Quidditch just as much as I do."

"But… but would it make 'er 'appee? Truly 'appee?"

He was about to snap at her again, when an image of Ginny forced itself into his clouded mind. She was on the broomstick, holding aloft a struggling, glimmering, Golden Snitch. She was laughing, smiling, triumphant…

But that was fleeting, wasn't it?

He frowned. Of course she would be happy… but it wouldn't solve any of her problems, would it? After the flying… after the novelty… it would still be just a broomstick… and nothing would have changed.

And if she chose him later, how could he be sure he didn't just… buy her choice.

He stepped back from the window. No… Fleur was right. He would get her a broom like this… someday. But not now… now was the time for something deeper… something else…

And then, a sparkle caught his attention. From the corner of his eye, he could see a slight blue glimmer coming from the store next door. Curious, he turned toward it, leaving Fleur to mutter softly about the stupidity of sports.

Harry walked over to the store window and pressed his face against it. There was a small glass case standing there with only one thing in it: a tiny pendant, no more than the size of a thimble, suspended on a bright silver chain. The pendant seemed to be made of a clear glass, and it seemed to hold a small, swirling mist in it.

"Oh, 'Aree…" Fleur said breathlessly from beside him. He jumped a bit, startled. "That… that ees very, very rare…"

"What… what is it?" He couldn't stop looking at it. The blue mist rippled as it swirled… calling out to him in a way that the broomstick couldn't.

Fleur turned her luminous eyes on him. "That ees a Veela antique, 'Aree."

"Veela?"

"Oui… I 'ave not seen one for many years now… those pendants are very 'ard to make and only the ancient Veela know 'ow to…"

"But what is it?"

Fleur regarded him thoughtfully. Then she smiled. "Let us go eenside, 'Aree. Speak to the owner… I am sure that she weel tell you all about it."

And as Harry stepped inside with Fleur, he thought he heard her say "But I am sure that thees ees what you weel need…"

Fleur was right. When Harry found out from the owner, a Veela of exceptional age and beauty, about the unique properties of the pendant, he knew then that it was exactly what Ginny needed. It was expensive, and the Veela took great pains to discuss with him the importance and nature of the pendant… but it was right. It felt right.

And when Harry and Fleur stepped out of the store ten minutes later and thousands of Galleons lighter, Harry spared a thought for the Firebolt sitting in the window. He wondered, fleetingly, if he was truly making the right choice.

But as he gripped the pendant in his hand and Fleur prepared to apparate them back to The Burrow, he knew that, no matter how much pain the pendant would cause Ginny and him, in the end it would all be worth it.

For this, above everything else he had seen, would finally, finally, help her choose.

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_That night…_

It seemed that, lately, Harry was doing a lot of waiting for Ron to sleep.

As he lay on his side, his back turned toward Ron, he pleaded silently for his best mate to hop into bed. But Ron kept sighing… Harry felt that Ron wanted to talk to him about something. And he was pretty sure what it was.

After he and Fleur had returned home, it seems that Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, had returned with a letter. From Hermione. About some muggle she was vacationing with. Who was not of her family.

From the expression on Ron's face, and the fact that he had not reacted when he saw Fleur's hand on Harry's arm, Harry knew that whatever Hermione had written bothered Ron to no end. And while he felt guilty about not helping his friend, he could not allow himself to get caught up in other people's love lives. He had his own problems after all.

And so, as the moon rose and the sun hid, he had turned in early, careful to avoid any confrontation with Ginny until he was ready. And as Ron stormed up the stairs to seek his advice one last time before bed, Harry had shifted and feigned sleep, hoping that Ron would understand.

Finally, after an hour of pacing and sighing, Ron flopped onto his bed and began to snore.

Good.

Now came the hard part.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the small pendant he held in his fist. He watched as the swirling blue mist shifted slightly, and then began to change color. The deep blue tone lightened, and kept lightening until it finally settled into a rich yellow shade.

Could he really give this to her, knowing full well what it does? Over the past few years, especially after last year, he had come to know Ginny quite well. He knew what kind of a person she was, and he knew that this gift would cause all sorts of pain for her.

Did he really want that?

The yellow mist deepened, swirling itself into a deep, dark purple. Nodding grimly, he stood up and made his way out the door. The house was silent. But he knew his Ginny… he remembered that night by the lake in the summer. She often went there when she was troubled and sleepless, she said, it soothed her and comforted her. And although there was no going to the lake tonight, he had seen her expression at the dinner table.

She would be awake.

As he padded silently down the stairs, shafts of moonlight streamed at him, casting his skin in an eerie glow. But aside from that, there were no lights; there were no candles on the shelves, no fires in the fireplace, no lamps on the tables…

But he knew she was there.

Finally, he reached the bottom floor, and heard something that confirmed his intuition. From there, from the darkness of the living room, a low, gentle voice sang in sweet dulcet tones.

It was a sad song… a song of mourning and loss and yearning… a song that played constantly in his mind and in his heart ever since the summer, even if he had not realized it.

He smiled.

But as he began to make his way through the dining area to the living room, he paused. This was his last chance to back out of this. He did not like the thought of hurting her. And, if this went as he thought it would…

Well…

He looked down again at the pendant, now a rich verdant green. Pain, as he knew all too well, is a part of life. And it is through pain that we learn so many of our most important lessons.

He made a fist around the pendant, cutting off its glow. He was right. He had to be. And if it hurt her… it would hurt him as well. But this was necessary.

This was a pain she needed. This was a pain she asked for… the pain of choosing between what was right and wrong… what was difficult and what was easy…

And if he was wrong…

He shook his head. It was time.

Keeping his fist tight over the pendant, he strode purposefully into the living room.

And there she was. Wrapped in a warm woolen blanket, she was curled up on the bench by the window looking out into the garden. Her hair was down, fanning her shoulders, glinting in the moonlight. Her face was neutral as she sang her song of loss… and her hands, her delicately strong hands, were clasped around her knees.

She was beautiful. Not in the perfect Fleur-like sense… She was just…

She was beautiful.

He swallowed nervously and opened his mouth to speak.

"I know you're there Harry," she said softly without looking at him. "I always know when you're there…"

And she turned to him, away from the window, away from the moonlight. And somehow, although her face was hidden in the shadow, he could see her clear eyes that shone like a beacon.

He steeled himself.

"Hello, Ginny," he said as he walked over to her.

"Hello yourself," she said, not unkindly. She seemed to think for a moment before drawing her legs up tighter to her body. "Here," she pointed to the bench. "Have a seat."

Wordlessly, he joined her. And suddenly, he found he could not meet her eyes. What was wrong with him? He had been so ready just moments before…

"Harry," her voice was soft and neutral. "What's happening to us?"

He leaned back against the window and stared at her in the light. Her eyes, he noticed, were wet with moisture, and she had tear streaks down her face.

His wanted to melt.

"I don't know," he whispered. Now she looked away… she turned to stare out of the window, searching for something.

"We're supposed to be friends. You were supposed to be the one sure thing in my life… the one I could always return too…"

"But you can…"

"Wait," she held up her hand and looked at him. He caught a faint trace of amusement in her eyes. "I've been practicing this speech all day. If I don't say it now, I never will."

He nodded. Okay…

"You were," she repeated. "Supposed to be the one constant in my life. I know I Like… er… used to like you a lot. I know that I filled my head with so many silly dreams that could never come true. And I know that I'm supposed to have given up on you…"

She sighed and leaned back against the wall. "And now we're friends… aren't we? I love…"

Her voice caught on the word. "I love… I love spending time with you. I love those moments where we can just… hang out; those moments where nothing seems to bother us anymore; those moments where we can be stupid and silly and forget that we live in the shadow of Tom Riddle."

She sniffed. "Those moments with you are like burst of sunshine in my life… and I don't want to lose them. Don't you understand?"

He stared at her impassively, watching her expression change from stoic resolve to amused bitterness. "You were supposed to be that one constant. But after Slughorn's party…"

She covered her face. "I wasn't supposed to cry…"

Harry leaned over as she began to sob. His heart ached for her… ached to tell her everything… but…

"What's happening to us, Harry?" she whispered through her tears. "I'm not sure of anything anymore…"

"Ginny," he began. His heart raced. Now… he had to do it now… just give it to her…

"Wait, wait," she said urgently. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Look at how silly I'm being. I almost forgot…"

Her head carefully turned away from him, she rummaged through her pockets. After a moment, she produced a small brown package, carefully wrapped in bright gold ribbons.

"Here," she said, regaining her composure. She thrust out the package toward him expectantly. "It's a 'I'm Sorry I was a Prat' gift."

He gently took it with his left hand, his right still clinging tightly to the pendant. "Thanks," he said as he peered at it. "But why…?"

She looked up at him sadly. "I got it at Diagon Alley earlier. It's for… for this morning at the stairs. I'm sorry I got all snippy about your crush on Fleur. I guess I understand… she is rather pretty and very crush-worthy, even if she is getting married to my brother"

Harry sighed. "For the last time, Ginny, I don't have a crush on her. I never have."

She cocked her head, staring at him with those stark brown eyes. She turned away after a while, sighing. "I… I know. I guess I really was just being silly…"

She gave a small laugh. "I don't know why I'm being like this…"

"It's okay Ginny," Harry said, putting aside the gift. He leaned in. He had to do it now… Just give it to her…

"Look, okay," Ginny said suddenly. "I was being silly. But the whole point of this is…"

She became very serious. She turned to look at him. "I need to know… Are we friends?"

Of that, Harry could assure her. "Of course."

She bit her lip. "Are we going to stay friends?"

"Of course."

She looked down. "Are we going to stay just friends? JUST friends?"

And silence filled the gap between them for a moment, stretching the distance between them to infinity. Outside, the snow began to fall harder, and the wind began to pick up. Harry closed his eyes as well, and gathered up every ounce of courage he could.

When he looked at her, she still had her eyes clenched. Her jaw trembled.

"Just friends?" she repeated in a whisper.

"Ginny…" he said.

"Harry, I need to know…" he eyes flew open, and her voice took on a frantic tone.

He leaned forward and crossed the chasm between them. He touched a finger to her moist lips and let it linger, cutting off whatever she was going to say.

He was going to fight.

She whimpered and trembled.

"My turn to talk," he said softly. She closed her eyes. A tear fell. She nodded.

"Ginny," he felt the thing in his chest begin to stand. He could do this… he could do this…

"Ginny," he repeated and shifted closer. She would not open her eyes, even when he pulled his finger away. He gently held her hand and stroked it with his thumb. Her skin was silk, and she was warm… warmer than the fire that burned in his heart. "I love spending time with you as well. You are a dear, dear friend to me."

She opened her eyes and risked a small smile.

"And you always will be. I treasure our time together… I don't want to ever lose this."

She smiled a little more. He swallowed hard. "I realize now that you are a constant in my life as well. Your energy, your fire, your passion… they soothe me. They fuel me." He smiled grimly.

"And I've come to respect you so much. More than Ron, more than Hermione… sometimes, more than myself."

She bit her lip again.

"And I respect your decisions as well."

She looked up at him, a sad resignation in her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly.

But he shook his head. "I respect your decisions when you make them knowingly… when you make them properly." His voice grew more forceful.

And now she narrowed her eyes. "Harry, what…?"

"I have seen too many people make too many wrong choices because of a lack of information," he said. There was no turning back now. "I do not want that happening to you."

And with that, he turned her palm upwards. His other hand, the hand that held the pendant, hovered over it.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, uncertainty in her eyes.

"This is my Christmas gift to you Ginny." He let his hand drop, opening it up slightly so that he could clasp her palm, the pendant trapped between them.

Her eyes widened and she looked down. But, with his hand clasped over hers, she could only feel it. "Harry…" she began.

"Shh," he interrupted. He allowed himself a small smile. "I've been practicing this all day. Don't ruin it."

Already he could feel, somehow, the pendant begin to change color. And something new… it began to grow warmer. From the look on her face, she could feel it too.

He looked deeply into her eyes. "This is a Veela pendant. I can't pronounce what they call it… but I know what it does."

He would not break the stare. "It is a mood pendant. The Veela enchanted it, as only they know how, to shift colors in response to the wearer's mood. As long as it touches your skin, it will change color every time your emotions shift. When you're happy, it's one color. When you're sad, it's another."

He paused, and she took advantage of that. "Wow," she said uncertainly. She tried to pull her hand back so she could see it… but Harry held fast. "That's really…"

"Wait. I'm not done," he said firmly. "I know you need certainty, Ginny, and I know it is difficult to find. And I know you think you have it with Dean."

He lowered his eyes finally to look at their hands. "But you're wrong."

"What?" her voice rose.

"You're wrong, Ginny. You mad ea choice without knowing everything… without being sure. And I know that is partly my fault… but that is why I'm giving you this."

He looked up at her again… at the growing confusion in her eyes. He hoped that she would forgive him.

"Being Veela, the makers of these pendants added an extra enchantment to it… and this is what makes it so powerful."

He took a deep breath, aware now more than ever of the overwhelming thunder of silence.

"As long as it is touching your skin, when you come into contact with the one you love… the one you truly, deeply love… it will instantly turn into one, and only one, specific color. That color depends on the person. No matter what your mood, no matter what your emotion… it will always be that color… as long as you are touching."

She gasped and looked frantically down at their clasped hands. She tried to pull apart. "Harry…" she said.

"For me," he continued softly. "I know it will be red when I'm touching her."

And now she stopped trying. She kept staring at their hands. And then she looked up at him, her eyes a mixture of pain and betrayal. "Why did you give me this…?" she whispered.

Harry met her gaze and kept his expression neutral. "If I open my hand… if we look at it… I know what color it will be. Bear in mind… the enchantment is never wrong. It always knows the truth. There's your certainty, Ginny. There… all we have to do is open our hands…"

But he slowly closed her fist about the pendant and gently let her go. He looked at her as she looked down at her clenched fist, her shoulders noticeably trembling. "But I'm not going to ask you to. Not now. Do not look at it yet. Not yet. Wait until you're ready… I'm willing to give you…"

She slapped him.

The sound of flesh striking flesh rang out in the silence of the room.

"How dare you." She whispered angrily. Her fist still closed, she now looked at him, her eyes filled with anguish and flowing tears.

She slapped him again.

"How dare you!"

"Ginny…" he felt sick all of a sudden. Had he thought this through enough? The anger on her face… the pain…

"HOW DARE YOU!"

She slapped him again. And again. And again.

"HOW DARE YOU HARRY!" her face was red, even in the moonlight. Her features, always so beautiful, were ravaged.

She leapt up and slapped him again.

"Do you know what you're doing to me?" she shouted.

He stood up. He had to do this. He had to.

"Yes."

"Yes?" she screamed incredulously. "YES?"

She slapped him. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry grabbed her hand in mid swing. His cheek burned where she struck him… but the pain in his heart burned even more. "Ginny, I just wanted…"

She punched him with the fist that held the pendant.

"I hate you for this," she sobbed. Her face was screwed up in pain, her anguish as blatant as her fiery red hair. He felt his resolve leaving…

"Ginny…" he tried to draw her close… tried to stifle his own tears that were threatening to fall.

"I hate you!" She punched his chest as he pulled her.

"Ginny…"

"I hate you so much!" She punched his chest as he engulfed her in his arms.

"I hate you!"

He embraced her… and she struck him over and over and over until, after several long moments, the sobbing finally overwhelmed her. And she stood there, sobbing in his arms, her breath coming in hitches, her fist closed tightly about the pendant she could not… would not see.

"Why are you doing this Harry?" she screamed into his chest between sobs. "Why? Why? Why?"

And he just held her, stroking his hand through her hair, trying to will her pain to leave. Please, he thought, please understand…

"Please answer me… why are you doing this?"

And then, in answering her question, he finally came to accept that truth that he had, for so long, denied himself. It came to him in a flash of light, and despite the pain he held in his heart for the weeping girl in his arms, he knew that things would turn out right.

"Because," he said gently.

I love you.

"I have to."

He would not say it aloud… not yet… but the realization of his love for her filled him with a calm that nothing could shatter.

And he sat down, slowly, still holding her shaking form, allowing her to sob silently against his chest. They stayed this way for a long, long time. He looked over her head out the window as, without warning, the snow stopped. He shared in her wordless silence for as long as she needed, and when she finally looked up at him it was with eyes as red as crimson, and a face as white as the snow.

"I know what you want," she said finally, her voice cracked. She buried her face in his chest again. "I know what you want to happen… But… but… please… I need…"

He gently leaned down and kissed her forehead.

She sobbed again.

"Take all the time you need," he whispered. "For you… I will wait."

She looked up at him again, her eyes clearer, and her face not quite as ashen. "I'll never forgive you for this, Harry."

"I know."

"No matter what I decide…"

"I know."

She looked down at her fist, shaking her head.

"What's happening to us…"

He cupped her chin gently. "We're growing up."

And then she looked at him for a long, long time. Her eyes began to sparkle… just a bit…

"I just need time."

"I know." He glanced down at her fist. "Use it only when you're ready."

And she nodded slowly. "Until then…"

"Friends," he said. Just friends.

A tear streaked down her cheek. He smiled gently and wiped it away.

"Merry Christmas, Ginny Weasley."

She gave him a small, quick smile and, with a swish of her long red mane, she leapt off of him and ran up the stairs without looking back.

Harry leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes for a long moment. For better or for worse, he had done it. And now, he could wait for her. She may end up choosing Dean, or she may end up choosing him. But at least he fought.

At least, he gave her a choice.

And then, Harry Potter looked out the window and began to sing a song. It was a song of loss; a song of yearning; a song of hope. He sang on, even when he no longer knew the words. He sang…

And he waited for the morning to come.


	6. Chapter 6: Renewal

_A/N: Well, here it is. Sorry it's a little late, but I've been spending the past week or so studying for finals. Sigh. Anyway, this takes place in that period of time that starts with Ron's birthday and ends with Ginny and Dean's break-up. Hope you guys enjoy… this was a difficult one to write. _   
Chapter 6: Renewal 

Nothing lasts forever… not the dark, not the cold, and not the ice. When we lose ourselves in our daily struggle for life, we so often forget this one small fact. And in doing so, we often trap ourselves in emptiness born from that most primal of human instincts: fear. And when we give in to that fear… when we content ourselves with living in that darkest of holes in our souls… we are truly and completely lost.

But nothing last forever, and change is constant. For the darkness and the cold, and the ice can fade… forced away by radiance and light. And even emptiness can be filled and escaped from by those who want it enough, for there is a power stronger than fear… stronger than terror.

It is a power so incredible that to touch it is to live, even for a moment, in a light purer and deeper than the sun's. It is a power that can be found in the barest beat of a heart… or in the roaring mass of a crowd of individuals. It is a power that can free us from any shackle or raise us from any crevice… and once partaken of, it can almost never be relinquished.

It is the power of renewal and rebirth, of love and passion, of belief and faith…

It is the power of Hope.

And as The Winter Queen relinquishes her hold on the strangled Earth, Hope springs forth, held aloft by the warm embrace of Mother Spring. For when spring comes, announcing herself in a verdant explosion of life, she brings with her the renewed hope of the people of the world as they look forward to a new year of joy and triumph.

And when the children of Hogwarts, young and old, wake up on the first morning of Spring, they know, deep down inside, that something is different. There is a change that lingers in the air… and it signals to all who perceive it that now is not the time for anger and fear and worry. For if you are strong enough to see it, if you are strong enough to take it, and if you are strong enough to use it, then all the power of hope is there for you.

And no one is stronger than Ginny Weasley…

Even if she doesn't know it yet.

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As the first day of March rolled along, the students of Hogwarts awoke to find that spring had brought them one of the most beautiful mornings in recorded history. The sun was shining a warm yellow glow, not too harsh and not too weak, that lingered in the air, carrying with it feelings of freshness… of life. The wind, cruel in the past few weeks, was crisp but soft, the kind of wind that gently ruffles one's hair. And the colors of the day were vibrant and enticing… calling for everyone to come out and revel in the glorious feeling of being reborn.

But not everyone came out to enjoy this day. High in the Gryffindor dormitories, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, for example, were just waking up to a day that promised, to Ron, an interesting birthday. They would have gone out later… but, of course, were unable to.

And then there was another poor soul who desperately wanted to partake of the merriment going on outdoors, but couldn't. Instead, she sat with arms crossed hunched over on the floor in the Gryffindor common room, glaring intently at the fireplace while gnashing her teeth on the end of her quill.

Scowling in disgust, Ginny stared at the fire until she felt her eyes would burn. She glanced down at the sheaf of parchment paper strewn on the floor before her and covered with squiggly lines and nonsensical numbers. Grabbing the top-most sheet, she balled it up in disgust and hurled it into the fire. She gave a small smile of satisfaction as it flared up for an instant, consuming the offensive paper in a burst of heat.

And she scowled again at the rest.

How did she ever let Hermione talk her into taking Arithmancy? It was the most stupid, worthless, stupid, annoying, stupid, and insane subject she had ever taken. And Professor Vector had the gall to give them two whole parchments worth of homework… TWO! And she couldn't make heads or tails of the notes she had taken in class. Of course that was her own fault, she supposed. If she looked hard enough at the notes, she could just make out the impression her face left when she had fallen asleep…

She nibbled on the quill a bit more. As she poured over the figures on her parchment, she could feel the hard presence of the Veela pendant on her chest. She grimaced inwardly as she thought back on what happened over Christmas.

Harry liked her. A lot. That was… that was unexpected. But why wasn't it making her happy? Why wasn't she jumping for joy and tossing Dean out on his arse? Why was she hesitating every time she saw him? Why? Why?

Too many questions… not enough answers.

Sighing, she tossed the now ruined quill into the fire… and winced when she remembered that it wasn't even hers.

"GINNY!" Shrieked a voice from behind her.

Uh-oh.

Like a bushy haired bobcat that had just seen its prey, Hermione Granger leapt at Ginny and grabbed, horrified, at the rest of the quills lying around her.

Ginny looked sheepishly at her. "Oh… I'm so sorry."

Hermione ignored her and frantically counted the remaining quills. Satisfied that only one was lost, she rounded on Ginny and scowled primly down at her.

"I can't believe you did that!" she said, quite miffed.

Ginny shrugged. "I said I'm sorry… I'm just so… I dunno… I can't stand this stupid subject! It's so bloody hard!" She threw herself back and lay down in frustration. Hermione sat down beside her, careful to keep her quills slyly out of sight.

"Well," she said, her voice high and conscientious. "It wouldn't be so difficult for you now if you just paid attention in class…"

"Oh no," Ginny muttered and covered her eyes with her hands. "Here we go…"

"Honestly, Ginny," Hermione went on. "You do have O.W.L.S. this year… and you have to get as many as…"

"I know, Hermione!" Sighed Ginny. She sat up again and looked at her friend. "I just can't seem to… to think, I guess…" her voice trailed off as she looked at the fire again. She really couldn't concentrate. She hadn't been able to for months now… since Christmas, actually. Every time she saw Harry…

She bit her lip and suddenly became acutely aware of the Veela pendant pressing against her chest.

Hermione just looked at her for a moment, her eyes carefully neutral. She frowned.

"I know what you mean…"

Ginny glanced over. "Really?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I can't really focus either… I only got a 95 out of 100 in last week's transfiguration test."

"Oh yeah… BIG tragedy," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Hermione scowled. "Hey, it is! I have never… EVER… gotten lower than 100 in McGonagall's class! Now she thinks I'm stupid!"

But there was something cracking in Hermione's voice that Ginny knew had nothing to do with grades or teachers. IT pained Ginny to see her best friend so confused. For all her joking, Ginny knew that a 95 really WAS a tragedy.

"Nobody thinks you're stupid, Hermione. Everyone always says 'you're the brightest witch of our age.' Hey, I believe it too." She smiled encouragingly. For someone so smart… she could be awfully silly at times…

Hermione smiled a little. "Thanks… but still…" She glanced darkly over her shoulder, jerking her chin towards the portrait hole. Ginny followed her gesture and saw Lavender Brown lounging coolly against the wall. In her hand was a small green package… presumably that birthday gift for Won-won that she kept bragging she special ordered from Italy. Lavender was conveniently looking around at everything but them… although Ginny could not help but notice that she smirked every so often.

"Honestly," Hermione muttered. "What does he see in her? She's such a twit! Is that why Ron won't…"

She blushed.

"Well… you know… is it because I'm so 'bright' as you say? Would he rather I be a stupid idiot like her?"

Lavender suddenly twittered for a moment, a shrill high laugh directed at nobody in particular. She composed herself for a moment, before laughing to herself again.

Charming. Real charming.

Ginny sighed and stroked Hermione's bushy hair. "Look, Hermione… Ron's a git, okay? I love him and all… but…"

"You're late, Won-won!" Lavender suddenly simpered.

Ginny and Hermione whirled toward the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory. Ginny's heart skipped when she saw the shaggy haired visage of Harry Potter as he led a bewildered looking Ron down the stairs. Ron's eyes were quite large and vacant, as if seeing something just at the periphery of reality. Harry, concern on his face, winced at Lavender's shout… but then he glanced at Ginny.

He smiled, shyly.

She smiled, shyly.

Hermione scowled, darkly.

"Leave me alone," Ron said in a strangely hopeful yet empty voice. "Harry is going to introduce me to Romilda Vane."

Ginny pursed her lips. Romilda Vane? What? What was going on?

But she couldn't help notice that Hermione's face transformed with glee as Lavender looked both shocked and outraged. She opened her mouth for several seconds, with not one sound issuing forth. Her eyes bulged un-attractively as she slowly worked her mouth open and closed. Harry shrugged at her apologetically and quickly shoved Ron out of the portrait hole. The portrait slammed shut, leaving an indignant looking Lavender Brown staring contemptuously at it.

"Hermione," muttered Ginny as she turned to her friend. "What do you reckon…?"

But Hermione was in no state to answer. She was rolling around on the floor, her arms clutched tightly about her stomach. And she was emitting a rather shrill and high-pitched twitter. Very Lavender-like actually. There were actual tears beginning to stream down her face from all her laughing.

"Hermione," Ginny said uncertainly. Oh dear… she wasn't going to start what she thinks is going to start?

She kept laughing.

"You think it's so FUNNY, do you?" Lavender suddenly screamed. She stormed towards them her eyes blazing.

"Lavender," Ginny said cautiously as she stood up to face her. No, this was neither the time nor place for them to do this… although she should have seen this coming; She really should have. "Don't…"

"You stay out of this!" she screamed. "This is between me and Granger!"

Stay out of this? Ginny scowled. Nobody tells her…

Hermione suddenly jumped up, her messy hair flying all over the place. There was a very un-Hermione like expression set in her face. "What's wrong, Lav-lav? Can't hold on to your man?" Her voice dripped with contempt.

Ginny felt sick. Here she was again… making things worse. "Hermione, don't…"

"Shut up!" Lavender screamed, ignoring Ginny completely. She strode up to Hermione and jabbed a finger at her face. "You shut up! You don't know what Ron and I have!"

"Lavender, don't…" Why were they doing this? This was such a stupid fight that could only end badly.

Hermione's eyes bulged out. "Know? KNOW? What exactly do I have to know, Lavender? That you simper like a kitten? That you're dumber than a tree stump? That you…"

"Hermione!" Ginny was shocked. Uh-oh. That did it. Any moment now, Lavender would bring out her big kick in the teeth. She had to stop this before things got any worse. "Hermione, stop…"

Lavender clenched her teeth. "I do NOT simper you…"

Hermione sneered and crossed her arms. "Romilda Vane, Lavender? Losing your touch? Imagine… losing him to Romilda Vane!"

"Hermione…" Don't bring up losing people…

Lavender gave out a quick derisive snort. "I'm not losing anyone, Granger. Ron will be back… this is just a big misunderstanding."

"Lavender, stop…" And of course, Lavender just loved this didn't she? She was just waiting for a chance to rub Hermione's face in it…

Hermione snorted as well. "Hah. Keep believing in that, Lavender. Someday, he'll see you for who you really are. A silly, idiotic…"

"Hermione…" Ginny reached up and massaged the bridge of her nose. This was getting out of hand. And of course, they were ignoring her like she wasn't even there. Too bad she had forgotten her wand upstairs…

Lavender twittered. "Silly? Me? Sure… I'm REALLY silly. I bet Won-won thinks it's so silly how I can blow his mind away with one kiss." She glared at Hermione. "'Cause, you know Granger, he makes these fantastic little whimpering sounds when he's…"

"Lavender, don't…" Ginny began to lose hope.

"SHUT UP!" Hermione shrieked.

Lavender laughed again, but never took her eyes off of Hermione. "Oh, he thinks it's sooooo silly how softly his lips press against mine… or how fast I make his heart beat… or how heavy his breathing gets…"

Ginny scowled. This was quite enough. She opened her mouth to speak when she noticed that Hermione's face reddened to an alarming shade of maroon. Her eyes bulged out angrily, and her breath seemed to come in quick, shallow bursts. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Shut up, you little… little…"

"Oh, Granger… there's nothing little about…"

"STOP IGNORING ME!" Ginny suddenly shouted. She leapt between both girls, and placed a hand on either one's chest. She began to feel her own face redden with considerable irritation. Both girls shut up. "STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"

The portrait door slammed shut as a tiny freshman stuck her head in, cowered, and then fled.

Ginny stood between Lavender and Hermione and scowled at each of them in turn. "You stop baiting her," she said to Lavender, "And you stop reacting!" She scolded Hermione. "This is just ridiculous! You're both acting like little kids!"

For a moment, both girls glared at each other over Ginny's head… but eventually Lavender backed away. "Yeah, that's right! Leave, you little tramp!" Hermione shouted. Ginny turned to her and pushed against her shoulder. "C'mon, Hermione," she muttered. What was wrong with her? This was so not like her! "Let her go…"

Lavender sniffed and examined her nails. "Yeah… let me go, Hermione." She said Hermione's name very condescendingly. "I have to go find Ron… and give him a birthday gift he'll never forget."

Hermione whipped out her wand. Ginny grabbed for it immediately and dragged Hermione up the steps. "No! Put that away! Now!"

Lavender twittered and strolled out of the room.

Hermione shrugged off Ginny's hand and tried to stalk away, but Ginny just gripped harder. She pulled Hermione close and glared up at her. "What do you think you're doing? Are you stupid all of a sudden?"

Hermione stared at her for a moment, seething. "What? Why are you siding with her?"

Ginny sighed and wanted to pull her hair out. "I'm not siding with her… I'm siding with you! You're my best friend…"

"Funny way of showing it!"

"No," Ginny raised a finger and waggled it at Hermione. "You do NOT get to be angry at me for this. Just like you do NOT want to start fights with Lavender Brown!"

"Why not?" Huffed Hermione.

"Why not? You really ARE an idiot, aren't you?"

"Ginny…"

"No," she said as she shook her head. "Let me finish. You are being an idiot, Hermione. You're just sinking to Lavender's level. You know fighting with her right now is not going to solve anything! You're smarter than that! You're just gonna get everyone pissed at you!"

Hermione sat down glumly, all the fight in her seemingly gone. Ginny sat down beside her slowly, and the two of them sat on the dormitory steps for a moment, catching their breaths. Ginny glanced sidelong at Hermione, hoping that her friend had calmed down.

"Hermione, look…" She began hesitantly.

"You're right… I'm sorry. I just… I just can't stand it anymore, you know?" Hermione's eyes suddenly filled with sorrow.

"What? What can't you stand?" Ginny asked gently.

"Her. Him. Them. How they're always together. How they… how they keep…"

"But Hermione, they're just doing…. you know… that's what couples… you know, do."

"Do you think he loves her?" Hermione said in a monotone voice.

"What? No… I don't think…"

"He does, doesn't he… sure… yeah… He just loves her so much and he just hates me, right? Well… well…"

Hermione bit her lower lip. "Well, I hate him too."

"No you don't. And… look, Hermione... no one hates you. And he doesn't love Lavender at all. He just fancies her a little… he'll forget about her soon enough. Why do you think he's looking for Romilda?"

"C'mon Ginny, you know as well as I that Ronald probably ate some of those cauldrons that Romilda kept trying to give Harry. They're probably off to find Slughorn."

"Oh yeah…" Ginny's voice trailed off as she thought of how Romilda kept trying to spike Harry's drinks; how she herself had once been so desperate that she seriously considered using one of those love potions…

Ginny blushed furiously.

"Speaking of which," Hermione said as she glanced at Ginny. "Just what IS going on between you and Harry anyway?"

Ginny shook her head. "Huh? What? Nothing… I…"

"Oh, come off it Ginny," Hermione began to smirk. "I've seen you two together… I've seen how different you've been with him ever since Christmas."

Ginny tried to hide her face and fingered her pendant through her shirt. "What do you mean?"

"Oh honestly. You guys are all of a sudden… shyer around each other. As if… as if…" Her eyes widened. "Did something happen at The Burrow? Something that you're not telling me about?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. How had this conversation get turned around like this? "I dunno… I guess…"

"You guess? What do you mean 'you guess'? Did something happen or not?" Hermione's voice had taken a very urgent tone.

Ginny threw her hands up in frustration. "Look, I don't know what to tell you! Yes… something did happen. But I…"

All of a sudden, a long shadow loomed over them.

"Miss Granger, Miss Weasley."

The two girls stare dup at the tall, elegant form of Professor McGonagall. She had a deeply perturbed expression on her severe face, and she stared coolly at them. But Ginny could see concern etched in her eyes. Something was wrong…

"Please come with me. Both of you."

"Professor…" Ginny began as she stood up.

McGonagall whirled about and descended the stairs. She raised a hand to cut off whatever Ginny had been about to say.

"I'm sorry. We must hurry to the hospital wing. Ronald Weasley has been poisoned."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Later…_

Warm sunlight streamed through the big bay windows of the hospital wing, creating long shadows dancing across the floor. The grey stones of the walls kept the heat at bay, making the room seem much colder than it should have been. But that wasn't the only thing making Ginny shiver.

She hated this room.

She sighed as she wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at the prone form of her brother. His face was pale in the sunlight… paler than usual. And his red hair, usually just as fiery as hers, looked drab and lifeless. He was lying with his eyes closed in the bed at the end of the room.

It was the same bed that she always occupied whenever she came here.

She hated this room.

She looked down at Ron again and stroked his arm. At least he was okay. When McGonagall had told them that he was… Well, she felt that she couldn't breath. When they rushed here and saw him… When she saw him… God, she felt she would burst.

But Harry was there.

At least Ron was okay. It was close… but he was okay.

She looked sidelong at Hermione. Her face was as white as Ron's. Her lips were pressed together in a thin, grim line. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying all night.

She was not taking this very well. And why should she? Ron had barely survived the poisoning. They weren't even sure whether he would recover properly. And who would do such a thing anyway? Of course, she, Hermione, and Harry had discussed that topic to pieces all afternoon, but they didn't have any conclusive answers. Harry was so sure it was Malfoy. And, even if it couldn't possibly have been, Ginny believed him. Somehow. 

She looked at Harry, standing there across from her. His eyes were dark and deep with sorrow as they gazed down at his friend, his hair a curtain of raven night falling over his scar. He looked up at her then, and as they locked eyes, Ginny knew that he was thinking the same thing she was.

Ron was just the latest in a series of terrible events in this war. First there were all those Aurors that died. Then there was Katie. And now this happened. When would it end? When would they finally, finally achieve that lasting peace that made happiness possible?

Ginny frowned and looked away. Happiness was there to be taken. She knew it. And she knew HE knew it.

So why couldn't she take it? He was right there, with piercing green eyes and a soul that radiated so much light that sometimes it hurt to look at him. It was a light that she had sought for whenever she felt cold… whenever she felt dark. It was a light that called to her… especially now when the pain of almost losing Ron was too fresh… too painful. She needed him. All she had to do was reach out and…

So why couldn't she?

"Ginny," his voice was low and soft as he came around the bed and touched her shoulder. She trembled. "I have to go. There's something I have to find out…"

She looked up at him.

Ever since that night at The Burrow, she was torn about her feelings for him. On the one hand, she could not deny the warm rush of… of… Love? Of whatever it was that rushed through her when she saw him. It was part of that light that surrounded him… that intoxicating feeling of being in the same world as him.

And yet…

She couldn't. Why couldn't she? What was wrong with her? Every time she thought she was about to take that step and leave Dean for Harry… she couldn't. Why? Why was she being so weak? This wasn't her…

"Ginny?" Harry asked uncertainly.

She blinked. How long had she been staring at him? "Oh, yeah, Harry. Okay. Go ahead. I'll stay with Hermione then."

"Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

She sighed as she watched him go, his lanky form sliding effortlessly through the shadows of the afternoon light. When he reached the door, he turned slightly to glance at her. After a brief smile, he was gone.

She smiled to herself, feeling that warmth rush through her.

She turned back to look at Ron, but Hermione caught her gaze. Her face was still ashen and her lips were still pale… but there was a fire in her eyes that sparked into existence.

"Ginny," she whispered fiercely. "I think…"

Ginny took her hand. "Hermione, what…?"

"I think I love him."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Who, Harry? But I thought you…"

"Not Harry! What's wrong with you? Ron!"

"Oh…"

"Ginny…" Tears began to stream down her cheeks. "I love him so much. I… I didn't want to admit it. Not to him, not to Harry, not to you… not even to myself… for a while. But I…"

She covered her face with her hands and sobbed quietly into them. Her shoulders shook with her sobs, and she made small whimpering sounds. She slid slowly to the floor and pressed her cheek tenderly to Ron's hand.

Ginny, her heart aching, slid down and joined her, stroking her hand down Hermione's back. "It's okay, Hermione," she said soothingly. "It's okay…"

"No it's not," Hermione sobbed. "No… I… I… should have told him long ago. I should have fought for him… I…"

She looked at Ginny then, her eyes red and bloodshot. "I was so scared. I… I never felt this way about anyone before. Ever. All my studying… all my books… they never prepared me for how it would feel."

"Why didn't you tell him then?"

"I was scared. I thought… I thought that if I told him, he would laugh at me and tease me… and he'd hate me forever. At least if I kept quiet… we'd be friends. And at least I could… I could be with him. Even just as a friend."

Ginny sat quietly, her mind whirling. Everything Hermione was saying sounded so familiar. She knew of course that she felt partly like this about Harry… but not quite. But that phrase… just a friend… brought back quite a bit to her.

"Hermione…"

"And I kept playing these stupid games to protect myself from him. These stupid games that have cost us our friendship! These stupid games that have cost me… him. I drove him right into Lavender's arms… didn't I?"

"Hermione…"

"And it was all because I was too scared to tell him. And now he hates me. He hates me for Lavender, he hates me for Cormac, he hates me for those stupid birds, he hates me…"

Ginny didn't even try to interrupt anymore. She just took Hermione into her arms and stroked her hair.

"And now… I almost lost him. He almost died… and the last thing I would ever have remembered of him is his hatred of me."

Her voice hitched.

"He would have… he would have died hating me."

Then she fell silent but for the sobs she made while pressed against Ginny's shoulder. Ginny felt her own tears start to fall… she knew that they were tears for Ron and Hermione, but she also knew that they were something else. How many time had she felt this way for Harry? How many times had she seen him battle basilisks and dementors, or fall of his broomstick or get smashed by bludgers, or see him, in her head, torn apart by an Avada Kadavara curse? How many times had she thought of him battered, bloody, and lifeless? How many times had she thought of him dying without knowing how she felt?

"No more," Hermione said suddenly. "I can't… I can't live with him hating me. If I can't have him love me… I'll…"

She pulled away from Ginny and stared at Ron. "I'll just keep loving him. And I'll just keep hoping. No more games."

She stood up then, and bent over Ron. As Ginny watched, she brushed back Ron's limp red hair and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"I love him… but I want him to be happy. If he still wants me for a friend… I'll try to be the best one he can find."

She sat down on the bed and stroked his cheek tenderly. "I don't know if you can hear me, Ronald," she whispered. "But if you love Lavender, I'll step aside. I'll understand. I'll just take you anyway I can have you. Even as a friend."

She looked up at Ginny and smiled. "But I can still hope, right? There's nothing wrong with that? Maybe someday…"

Ginny smiled sadly. "Be strong Hermione. You're doing the right thing. And I'm telling you… they're not going to last."

She stared at Hermione for a moment, taking in the strong lines of her face. She was a different Hermione now than she was a few minutes ago. Gone was the slightly immature and selfish brat who wanted to pick fights and run away from everyone… replaced by an elegantly sad young woman, the result of heartbreaking choices. This Hermione was strong. This Hermione… basking in the choice of her love… this Hermione would thrive. This Hermione was strong.

She felt a deep pang of sorrow in her gut.

And which Ginny Weasley was this? Which Ginny would come out of this talk with her friend? Which Ginny was standing watch over her brother as he slept the sleep of the unknown?

Was she the Ginny who everyone saw… she of the strength and passion and fire that awed everyone who saw it?

Or was she the Ginny who really was… that terrified little girl who still thrashed in her sleep; who still heard Tom Riddle's voice forcing her to commit indescribable atrocities that she could never forget?

Was she the Ginny who was so weak that she could not make her own choices?

Hermione had made hers. And Ginny could see that this was the perfect choice for her to make. She had no skill in Divination… but every fiber of Ginny's soul could see that Ron and Hermione were meant for each other.

So why couldn't she see what was right for her?

Just friends. That's what she and Harry were right now, weren't they? Just friends. And that's all they could be while she was still with Dean. But…

She stood up and walked to the window. The sun glowed a deep orange as it slowly set beyond the horizon. Soon it would be night, the time when secret longings seemed to no longer care for secrets.

Secrets. It was no secret how she felt for Harry. She could feel the ache in her heart when she thought of him. When she closed her eyes, she could hear his voice. When she kissed Dean… all she could think of was Harry.

But over Christmas…

"Ginny," Hermione said softly. Ginny turned to face her, and sighed with relief when she realized that she wasn't crying. "Ginny… what happened over Christmas?"

Ginny turned to look out the window one last time. There it was… the sun had just waved an orange goodbye one last time.

Her Veela pendant always glowed orange when she thought of Harry.

She wasn't ready. Not yet.

She turned to Hermione and took her hands. "I… I can't. I don't know what's wrong with me Hermione…"

"Sure you can, Ginny," Hermione's voice was soft and tender. "Whatever's bothering you… whatever it is that you can't say…"

"No. I have to…"

"Ginny…"

"I have to go!" She turned to Hermione. "Please… I just can't talk about this now. I need time…"

"It's been more than three months Ginny! Please, you have to talk to me."

"Why should I?" Ginny said indignantly. No… she could not talk to Hermione about this. Hermione had just found her happiness. How could she burden her with talk of such feelings so nebulous that she herself couldn't figure it out?

She mustn't… she had to do this herself… that's what making choices is all about… right?

Hermione stared at her for a moment, her eyes filled with sorrow. "It's tearing you apart, Ginny."

The silence that lingered between them was thick and palpable, broken only by the occasional snore from Ronald Weasley. Ginny frowned and looked down. It was tearing her apart. There were two sides of her now… the part that everyone knew… and that secret part of her that no one did. And they warred constantly, barraging her soul with thousands upon thousands of scars.

How could she speak of this with anyone? How could she expose so much of herself like that… especially to Hermione… especially to Harry?

Harry was so strong… so sure of himself. What was she?

"Ginny," Hermione said hesitantly. "You can't focus on anything… you're short tempered with everyone… you're not sleeping properly… everyone can see it."

Ginny looked away and wrapped her arms about herself. This was what Harry did to her. By… by forcing her to…

"And," Hermione continued, "Look at you and Dean. You're always arguing now…"

"What do you know about it anyway?" Ginny retorted.

"Nothing. I don't know anything because you're not talking to me." Hermione took Ginny's hand in her own. "Please Ginny, if not me, then talk to someone else. You need to…"

She felt her defenses cracking. There was so much hope in Hermione's voice… so much life. Maybe… just maybe…

"Okay," Ginny said softly. "Okay."

For a long moment, Ginny stared into her friend's warm brown eyes. She sighed and fished around inside her collar for her pendant. She brought it out slowly and dangled it between them. The crystal caught the last of the sun's fading light, twinkling for an instant as it hung in the air. The mist inside was a deep, dark green.

Hermione's jaw dropped in shock. Ah… she knows what it is…

"Where did… where did you…"

"Harry gave it to me," Ginny murmured. That night… that cold, cold night. All she wanted was assurances that he would leave her alone to her misery… that he wouldn't try…

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was hushed and urgent. "Oh, Ginny… do you know what that is?"

Yes she did. And every time she looked at it, she hated it. "Yeah… it's a Veela pendant." She hated it… but why did she wear it? Why?

"And do you know what it does?"

Ginny looked at her sadly and tucked it back into her shirt. "Yeah, I do." Of course she knew what it did. Harry had told her, right?

She felt a rush of anger and pain.

"And he gave that to you… do you know what that means?"

"I… I think so…" Of course she knew what it meant. She wasn't stupid. It forced her to know things she couldn't possibly want to know. It forced her to do things based on information she should not have. It…

"Then what's the problem? Oh Ginny, this makes everything so much easier…"

"No it doesn't!" Ginny said sharply as she jumped up. "It doesn't at all!"

She paced around the bed for a while; walking back and forth and feeling her face burn with a sudden anger. She could feel Hermione's confused stare on her as she paced, and could feel the hurt from the past Christmas coming back again.

"Ginny…"

"What right does he have? Huh? Answer me that… What right does he have to give me such a thing?" He hadn't even asked her if he could give her this… he presumed too much.

"Ginny…"

But there was no stopping her now. "Doesn't he know what this… this thing is doing to me? Huh? Every time I'm with Dean… I can feel it burning against my chest. I can feel it burning, pulsing, and calling to me to look at it. Every time."

And she couldn't look at it. No matter how much she wanted to… no matter how much it called to her… looking at it would just… just…

"Then why don't you…"

"I can't! I can't! If I do… then… then…"

"Then you'd know…"

"NO! How can he do this? What right does he have to force me to do this? I should be free to make my OWN choices! I hate him for doing this to me. I HATE HIM!"

She hadn't meant to say it… she had never meant to say anything like that. But she had, and it was out there now. She felt the anger and the hurt gathering inside her and wanted so much to unleash it. No… she had to… she had to go….

"No… no you don't." Hermione stood up and touched her shoulder. "You don't have it in you to…"

"I do! I do!" Her eyes started to fill with tears. What was wrong with her? For three months she had been keeping this quiet. For three months she had shown no sign of fear or tears or… nothing. Why was she losing it now?

"No you don't," Hermione said forcefully. "Listen Ginny, all Harry was trying to do was …"

But Ginny decided that enough was enough. She could no longer handle this side of her… this side that broke down so easily. She was strong; everyone knew this. She could not lose control. She could not. She had to just…

And so, without a word to her friend, she ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. The echo of her footsteps rang though the hall, mercilessly mocking her.

Running again? Running as usual?

But she could not stop. She had to run. She had to hide. And as she ran and tears slid down her face, Ginny Weasley knew that she truly did not hate Harry Potter one bit. But she knew that there was a part of her, an intensely powerful part that fiercely hated what he did. There was something inside her, wrapped tightly around her heart, that stopped her from thinking clearly and stopped her from feeling things properly.

But what was it?

As she angrily wiped her eyes, she knew that she did not know. She also knew that if she tried hard enough… maybe she could find it. But… she couldn't. She just couldn't.

She was too weak.

She was too scared.

But, like a lot of people do, she thought that, given enough time she would find the answer somehow… it would come to her in a brilliant flash or like a bolt of lightning. And that's where she hung her false hope… there, in that one possibility of salvation from without. It is a common enough hope, one found in everyone who has not the strength to search further.

This Ginny Weasley… wasn't ready.

And so she locked her self tightly inside herself for a while longer, hoping, and praying that the answer would come to her… in time.

But what this Ginny Weasley doesn't know is that time is a tricky thing: you always think you have more than you really do.

And then, one day… it's gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But life goes on in Hogwarts; it does not linger to wait for foolish youth to learn wisdom. Life is not like that. Life runs through its peaks and its valleys heedless of those who long for pause. For those who see the possibility in life… those who see the hope… this is a blessing: a chance to see the world through a prism of colors and vibrancy that nothing else can match. It is a magic born out of existence and being; a magic with no countercharm.

But there are those who do not see life this way. There are those so caught up in problems and issues so powerful that they cannot see past them. There is hope for these people, yes, but only if they choose to seek it. But, often times, these people choose to place their hope in that most elusive of mistresses: time. And these people are often the ones who end up waiting forever.

Ginny Weasley could be one of these.

But she isn't.

For, even if she placed too much faith in time, something will happen on this day that, should she see the possibilities, will change her life forever.

If she sees it…

And if she takes it.

And so… on to the Quidditch pitch.

Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff 

This wasn't working.

Ginny Weasley loved Quidditch. She breathed it, thrived in it, lived it. The roar of the crowd, the feel of the wind, the smell of the roast pork sandwiches that supporters ate… it was intoxicating. Quidditch was her element, and she excelled at it.

But not today.

Ginny grimaced as she sliced through the air, searching for the Quaffle. She had just lost it… again… to that prat Zacharias Smith. She couldn't stand him… and she'd be damned if she let him beat her. What was wrong with her today? She never played this badly. She just… couldn't focus for some reason…

And there he was, just behind Peakes.

She gripped her broomstick and lunged forward, her hand outstretched.

Good. He hadn't seen her.

She swooped down below him, letting her momentum carry her up and around him. As she passed his surprised face, she stuck her tongue out briefly and snatched the Quaffle away.

Yes!

Clutching the Quaffle under her arm, she sped towards the Hufflepuff goal, knowing that she would be unstoppable. But as she approached the goal posts, dodging this Bludger and that, she noticed a small buzzing golden ball glinting ahead of her.

The Snitch.

She wondered then if Harry had seen it. If he had, he ought to be coming up in her field of vision any time now. She had to score… there was that small, primal part of her that felt the need to dazzle him… just a little…

And suddenly she wasn't holding the Quaffle anymore. Smith had stolen it.

Cursing under her breath, she wheeled about. If she wanted to win this, she had to put Harry out of her thoughts. She had to ignore him from now on…

And then she heard quite an odd thing. Luna, commentating on the match, saying something about McLaggen handling one of the bats…

But she saw Smith and the Quaffle. And so she put it out of her mind, just as she determinedly ignored the muted cries of "Harry!" that came from the crowd. He had probably just seen the Snitch…

Never mind. Focus. Get Smith. Focus.

But she could not ignore the sickening crunch she hard from behind her. She turned her head and saw a sight that filled her with icy dread.

She remembered that first match she saw Harry play, back in her first year. It was a match against Slytherin, and he had flown beautifully. She was in awe of him already by then, but there was something in the way he flew… and unfettered freedom that tugged at the heartstrings of her burgeoning emotions. Freedom. It called to her… and she knew then that she wanted to do anything she could to answer that call.

She was too young to be in love, but it was at that moment that the seeds were sown.

And she remembered how that match ended; she remembered the Bludger, mad and hungry, smashing into his arm with a force so powerful that Harry could not prevent it from breaking. She remembered the anguish on his beautiful face at the impact. She remembered her own anguish, as her heart squeezed in her chest. But she also remembered that look of pure determination in his eyes as he pushed through the pain to grab the Snitch.

And even as he lay on the ground later, cradling his broken arm, there was triumph in his eyes. He was in pain… but he had triumphed.

And she experienced emotions that she could not understand.

His eyes were blazing, fiery and passionate.

And that was the image that flashed before her as she stared, in dawning horror, at the scene before her.

There was Cormac McLaggen, beater bat in hand, with an expression bordering on sheer pleasure. There was poor Peakes, bat-less, hovering in stunned disbelief. There was Smith, scoring the Quaffle with glee.

And there was Harry, a Bludger streaking away from him, falling limply off his broom. Blood streamed copiously from a spot on his forehead, right next to his scar. As he fell, his face turned toward her for a moment. There was no blazing look in them this time. There was… nothing.

"No!" She screamed.

No, no, no, no, no…

She had to get to him. She had to save him. She promised him…

As he fell, she gripped her broomstick hard and surged toward him. But she was too far… she was on the other side of the pitch. She urged her broom faster, feeling it shaking… coming apart…

His face was slack, his jaw was open, and his eyes were cold… empty…

Faster… faster…

And she saw that she wouldn't make it. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how fast she flew… she wouldn't make it. He would fall and fall and fall until… until…

But he didn't. An instant before he met the ground, Peakes and Coote caught up with him, each grabbing him by an arm. Together, they brought him down slowly, and laid him on his back.

In the confusion that followed, Ginny was aware of only a few things at a time; the first was of Hermione, grim and white-faced, rushing down with Hagrid and a few others. The second thing was that of Cormac laughing maniacally over Harry's still form. The third was that she was just hovering there now, as still and lifeless as Harry was below her.

She could not speak… she tried to, but no sounds issued forth. She could not move… she tried to, but her limbs fought her at every turn. She could not breathe… she tried to, but she felt her heart would collapse under the strain.

She had almost lost him. She had almost lost him. She had almost lost him.

She could not save him. She could not save him. She could not save him.

"Ginny," she became vaguely aware of a hand grabbing her roughly by her arm. "Ginny, focus…"

She turned large, empty eyes toward the voice and came face to face with Dean Thomas.

"Dean," her voice sounded so far away. "What…"

He shook her. "Ginny, focus! We're still playing! The game doesn't end until the Snitch is found."

She could not save him. She could not…

"Ginny!" he snapped. "Are you listening? You have to play Seeker! Everyone's counting on you now. You have to do this! You have no choice!"

Ginny looked around her then; at the Bludgers still whistling about; at the hundreds of red and gold and yellow clad supporters, silent for once; at the other players, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff alike, concerned but ready to continue. And she saw Madam Hooch, reluctantly getting ready to restart the match.

She looked up at the clear blue sky; at the swirling white clouds lining the edge of the world; at the sun, hiding behind a giant white nimbus; at the horizon, where a hawk swooped gracefully after its shadow. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of the fresh, fresh air.

And she looked down at Harry being carried off by Hagrid.

Harry, bloody and battered, being carried away from her.

From her.

She looked at Dean again, her eyes clearer than ever. "I can't," she whispered. "I have to go…"

"What? No! Potter just got…" His eyes narrowed.

"Yes. That's why I have to…" she began to pull away from him.

"But… but…" he sputtered.

"You play on, Dean," she said softly. "You be Seeker."

"But…"

She flew off. "It's just a game, Dean," she called over her shoulder. Just a game. She couldn't play on. She had to see him. She had to make sure that he was… that he was…

It was just a game.

And she had a choice… all the choices in the world.

She landed outside the castle without her customary grace, but she didn't care. She just had to get to him. As she ran through the courtyard, a thousand thoughts sped through her mind. He had carried her through here… all by himself… when she was lying unconscious. He had cradled her so close to his heart… protecting her… shielding her.

She had to get to him.

Finally, she reached the hospital wing. Her chest heaved with the effort of running up all those stairs… but she had to get to him. Her heart beat hard against her chest, and she heard every pulse, every pounding of it.

He was there, through those doors, waiting for her.

She threw open the doors and stormed in, heedless of Madam Pomfrey's indignant protests.

Here, right here, was the bed she had walked into that night when he visited her. And here, here was the spot where he picked her up and drew her close… refusing to let her go… refusing to let her harm herself.

And here… here was where she promised that she would save him; a promise that she did not keep.

She couldn't help it… she began to cry.

As tears streamed down her face, she saw Harry lying in the bed beside Ron's, who was out like a light. Harry's face was hidden behind the great bulk of Hagrid, who was standing by the top of the bed. Madam Pomfrey, after tutting angrily at Ginny, bent over and ministered to his head. Hermione was standing at the foot of the bed, her face ashen with fear.

"Harry," Ginny whispered. Was he alright? Was he going to be okay? He had never gotten hit in the head with a Bludger before… a watermelon, yes, but not a Bludger. Was he going to be okay? Will he recover?

"Harry!" She ran towards them.

Hermione cut her off, grabbing her arm. "No Ginny, let Madam Pomfrey…"

"No!" She tried to shove Hermione away. She had to get to him. She had to see. She had to make sure. She had to…

"Ginny!" Hermione clung to her desperately. "Ginny, no! We have to wait outside so Madam Pom…"

"NO!" She shrieked. She shoved Hermione violently away, barely aware of her falling to the floor. She had to go to him… She had to…

She couldn't breathe… she couldn't…

And then a giant arm slung around her waist, and she was hoisted into the air… away from him… away from her Harry.

"No," she screamed. "No! Put me down! Put me down!" She was vaguely aware that it was Hagrid who was carrying her.

"Now, Ginny," his gruff voice came. "We have to…"

"NO!" She pounded away at his meaty arm with a small fist. "Put me down! I have to…"

But Hagrid slung her over his shoulder and carried her purposefully out of the room. "No! Let me down!" she cried.

And he did… he gently dropped her to the floor outside and closed the door so she couldn't go in. As she picked herself up to try to throw herself at the door, Hagrid stopped her gently with one giant hand.

"Listen Ginny," he said soothingly. "You have ta let Madam Pomfrey do her thing."

She tried to shove him as she did to Hermione, but she couldn't. She couldn't even budge him. She looked up at him, tears burning in her eyes. "Why are you doing this? I have to…"

"No Ginny. If I let ya in there, yer gonna do more harm than good, I think. Now, Madam Pomfrey is the best there is. You just let her…"

Ginny opened her mouth to argue some more, but she could see that there was no point. She sank to her knees in despair, there, in the cold, cold hallway, and buried her face into her hands. Her soul burned.

Hagrid patted her awkwardly on the head and slipped back into the room, muttering something incomprehensible, and Hermione joined Ginny on the floor.

"Ginny," she said softly.

"Go away."

"Ginny…"

"Go away!"

She could not stop crying! What was wrong with her? What if Harry saw her like this… what would he think?

But why did she care what he thought anyway? She was… she was with Dean…

Right?

"Ginny," Hermione said more forcefully.

Ginny looked up. Through her tears, she saw Hermione's face, strong and bold, looking at her concernedly. "He's going to be okay. It wasn't much of a hit. The Bludger just kinda… glanced off of…"

"But what if it didn't?" Ginny said suddenly, and irrationally, angry. "What if it wasn't just a small hit? What if…"

She sniffed.

"What if something worse happened?"

Hermione stayed silent.

"What if… what if he died? What would I do…"?

She looked up at Hermione. "Tell me… what would I do?" she whispered.

Just then, the door to the hospital opened, and Hagrid stepped out. He looked down at the two girls and scratched his head. "I… er… I have ta go to the Headmaster. I have ta tell him what happened. Madam Pomfrey said you can go in now…"

He bent down and stared Ginny right in the eye. "He's okay Ginny…"

She jumped past him and shoved through the door. She ran frantically for the bed where Harry was, feeling both emotionally and physically drained.

And then she was beside him, and the tears started again.

He was lying back in the bed, his face ashen and still as death. The wound on his forehead was closed now, leaving only a small purple bruise as a reminder of what had happened. His breathing was shallow, but regular, and he looked quite at peace.

Her voice hitched in her throat. There was so much she wanted to say… but all she could do was repeat his name over and over and over again, her voice no louder than a soft whisper. She was dimly aware of Hermione walking up to her… but she didn't care. All she could care about was that Harry was safe.

He was safe.

She reached out and gently cupped his face, her tears copiously flowing now. She felt that familiar warmth creep up her neck and, staring at him, she felt that warmth penetrate her soul.

What was she doing? Why was she so affected by this?

She sniffed.

He almost died. He almost died. But that was nothing new, was it? He had 'almost died' before. But he was The Boy Who Lived. He would always almost die… and then live.

Wouldn't he?

A cold feeling crept up on her then.

Wouldn't he?

No… no… someday… someday something would happen that nobody could save him from. Someday he wouldn't be able to save himself.

What would she do then?

What would she do? What? What? What?

She jerked her hand away from his still face and ran it through her ragged hair.

What would she do? What would she do?

She gripped the end of her hair and pulled at it frantically. She couldn't handle it… she couldn't…

This is how he would look like when he died.

Her eyes widened. She couldn't breathe. She had to… she had to…

She felt a hand, her own, try to scratch at her face.

"Ginny," Hermione said sharply. "Ginny… please… stop… "

She began to look around frantically. Everything was closing in around her. She couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, surely. He was dying. The walls were closing in. She was dying. He was dying. She was dying. He was…

"Ha… Ha… Harry…" Her voice croaked with the strain of having to survive. She had to save him. She had to save herself. She had to go. She had to leave. She had to live. He had to live…

"Ginny!" Hermione shouted at her, spinning her around to face her. "Focus, Ginny! You're alright…"

She began to slowly shake her head. No… no… she wasn't… he wasn't… she…

She tugged her hair some more. No… no…

Hermione pulled her close and wrapped her arms frantically around her. "Ginny, you're scaring me. This isn't you… come back to me… please… please… be strong… what's wrong…?"

No. She couldn't tell her. Hermione wouldn't understand. Nobody could. How could they…? She needed to… to… to…

She tried to scream…

She couldn't…

No…

And then Harry moaned.

"Ginny," he said. His voice was soft… so soft.

Ginny stood still. His voice was so pure. So radiant. It pierced through the fog clouding her mind. That one word… that one tiny word, filled her soul. Suddenly, she felt the madness leave her slowly… ever so slowly…

He had called her.

Her breaths still came in hitches, but she bent over him and gently took his hand. What… what had happened to her…?

"Harry…"

But he was gone again. He could not hear her.

A single tear splashed onto his cheek. She wiped at it gently, and then viciously wiped her eyes. What had come over her?

She closed her eyes. She felt the savage beating of her heart pound away at her. Shhhh… it was okay… no more… shhh…. She cleared her mind of all thoughts, searching and yearning for that one moment of utter peace. It was there, just through the red fog of her fear. There…

"Harry…"

Her breathing slowed and her tears stopped.

Shhhh…

Breathe…

A cool current of air touched her face, bringing with it the calming scent of the trees and the lake and the grass and the sky…

Breathe…

She smiled.

She stood up and looked out the window. How long had she been here? It seemed to already be late afternoon…

"Ginny," Hermione said uncertainly. When Ginny turned to her, she was devastated to see the fear etched in Hermione's face. "Are you…?"

Ginny could not trust herself to speak again, so she hugged her best friend. She breathed deeply into Hermione's shoulders, feeling ashamed and afraid. That had never happened to her before. And it scared her.

What happened?

And then she knew that there was something seriously wrong with her. She would have to figure out what it was… and destroy it.

She had to.

As she felt herself calming down, she pulled back from Hermione and stared into her eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Ginny, what…?"

"Ginny? 'Ermynee?" A groggy voice said all of a sudden. "Izzat you?"

Oh god. Ron had woken up. No… she wasn't ready for him to see her like this… she had to…

"Oh, hi Ron," she said. And to her surprise, her voice was remarkably clear and steady. "Harry had an accident."

Ron gazed at the two girls in calm befuddlement. "Uh… what?"

Ginny knew she had to leave. She could not face another day… another second feeling like this. She had to solve herself. There was no other way.

"Ummm… yeah Ron, Quidditch accident. Anyway… uh…"

Distract him.

"Uh… do you know why Harry was late for Quidditch? He almost missed the start of the match!"

At the mere mention of the word Quidditch, Ron's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Wait," he said. "He's captain! Why would he be late?"

"You figure it out Ron. You're his best mate. Then maybe, uh, you can tell me later. Okay? Bye!"

She had to get out.

And then, she knew what she had to do.

She ran down the hall, but this time not in fear or in terror. She ran with purpose… with conviction. She guessed that the Quidditch match had ended by now and that all the brooms were safely returned to the broom-shed.

Fine.

She ran down to the broom-shed, trying desperately to avoid contact with anyone… especially Dean. She couldn't handle being with anyone right now. She had to sort herself out, and the only one who could help her with that was… well… her.

She finally reached the broom-shed as the afternoon sun started to bid her goodnight. In the pale orange light, she found the door to the shed locked by a massive grey padlock. No problem.

Of course it was quite easy to open the lock, a simple "alohamora" would have her inside the shed in an instant. But there was something incredibly satisfying about getting her hands dirty and doing it herself.

She reached into the pocket of her Quidditch robe and drew out 2 thin silver wires. She smirked down at them as they twinkled in the light. These two wires, which she carried around with her wherever she went, had served her well for years.

When she opened the door, she quickly picked out her old broomstick. It was there, propped up under the window, just waiting for her.

Flying. Flying was the solution. She grabbed at the broomstick, feeling the reassuring power that flowed through it. She smiled slightly. It would do.

But as she turned to close the shed door, she saw something glinting in the fading sunlight. It was there… in the back… and she felt draw to it somehow. She squinted in the darkness. Under a long canvas tarp, she could see the barest hint of a broomstick handle, shinier and more elegant than all the others. And she knew what it was: Harry's Firebolt.

She looked down at her battered Clean Sweep. This old broom had served her well for a long time now. She remembered the first time she stole a ride on it… all those years ago. It had belonged to her brother Charlie then, and he had forbidden her from riding it the moment he got it.

But, of course, that only served to provoke her.

She smiled as she remembered her first flight… how terrifying and exhilarating it was. She would never forget it.

And at the time, this broom was the best that they could buy. It wasn't a spectacular broom, but it was great. And so it passed from Charlie to Bill to Percy… and now to her. She caressed it lovingly… and was suddenly hit by a melancholy that was surprising in its intensity.

This would never be hers… not really. It carried too much in it… too much history, to much emotion…

Her eyes widened.

Too much expectation.

She looked hard at the outline of the Firebolt.

And the first part of the puzzle clicked in her head.

Expectations.

She looked down again at the Clean Sweep. When Charlie had given it to Bill, and when Bill had given it to Percy, and when Percy had given it to her, they all said the same thing: Make me proud.

Expectations.

She looked down at her broom one last time.

Make me proud…

She slowly let her Clean Sweep drop to the floor, closing her eyes as a cloud of dust rose up from the impact. And she felt something strange… something warm begin to grow inside of her. She did not know what it meant, but, somehow, letting go of the broom started something… unexpected.

Her eyes slid toward the shiny red Firebolt handle.

Just this once… she was going to return it… but…

She smiled to herself.

Just this once.

She strode over to Harry's Firebolt and grasped it purposefully. She threw off the tarp and gazed down lovingly at it, taking in its smooth lines and powerful figure. She ran her hands along it, feeling it humming in anticipation.

Just this once.

And she took it up gently, that warm glow inside her feeding her with a blazing feeling of rightness.

What was this feeling?

She took the broom outside and mounted it. The air was crisp and cool now as the heat of the day began to leave amidst swirling breezes. The light was fading from the sky, leaving behind a lingering sense of something ending… and perhaps something beginning.

With a quick kick off, she soared into the air, her hair whipping across her face in a joyous dance of freedom. The broom was faster than what she was used to, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. It responded instantly to her every whim, turning first one way, then the other, and she felt that thing inside her responding as well. And as she flipped and danced through the air, her mind filled with joy and her heart lightened until she felt that she could leave everything behind… forever.

This was freedom.

When she tired of flying, she perched lightly on the center Quidditch goal hoop. It was only fitting, she supposed, that the battle to fix herself would take place on the pitch. And so she sat down in the middle of the hoop and laid Harry's Firebolt gently on her lap. She stared out at the fading sun. The cool wind that summons the night caressed her cheek gently, and she smiled as she imagined that, maybe, it would be lovely to have Harry caress her this way.

A sad understanding came over her then as she stared out over the horizon.

She loved Harry. There was no denying that now. She had loved him from the moment he gazed at her with his blazing green eyes, holding aloft that Golden Snitch. She supposed that was why she took up Quidditch in the first place… because he did. From that moment, she knew what it was like to love someone so deeply, that it could hurt so much in so many ways.

The chief pain over the years was that he didn't love her back. She had longed for him to notice her… but he never did in that way.

She tucked an errant lock of red hair behind her ear and sighed. Now, of course, she knew that he felt more or less the same way about her. The gift of the pendant showed that well enough. So, the question now was, why did she not act upon it?

She pulled out the Veela pendant and stared at it. The swirling mist turned a deep azure and kept deepening until it was almost midnight blue.

There was something holding her back with him…. Something that both made her keep her distance from him and hate him for what he did.

But why was she so angry? Why did she hate him as much as she loved him? Why was it that, when she saw him, she had the impulse to both kiss him as hard as she could and kick him as far as she could?

And what was making her so scared of him… of herself… of them? Why did she keep running? Why was she always running?

Too many questions… not enough answers.

She looked back at Hogwarts, with its stone ramparts and shimmering lights. As the sun set, it cast long shadows across the castle, layering it in mystery and secrets. And yet, it never lost that sense of warmth or that sense of hearth. It was like home now… comforting… soothing.

It was at this point that she knew that she could go back there right now and avoid all this confusion of fixing herself. She could go back there right now, and pretend to be a Ginny who was so strong and so sure of herself that nothing could affect her. She could run from her troubles… run from her fear… and run from herself.

She turned away and smiled sadly.

No… she was through running. That Ginny wasn't strong at all, was she? No… if she wanted strength, if she wanted assurance, she would have to fix herself now… here. Then maybe, after she did… maybe she could…

And the simple truth of things slammed into her so hard that she almost fell off the hoop.

After she fixed herself, she could go to Harry.

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she began to laugh. Of course… she was being so stupid! That's what was keeping her from Harry! She knew his goodness and his rightness. She had been watching him for so long that she knew what a wonderful person he was. How could she get together with him when she was such a mess? She supposed that there was one small part of her that knew that there was something the matter with her… something deep and primal… and unless she fixed it, she wouldn't allow herself to be with him.

He was such a great man that it would be unfair to present him with such a mess. He deserved better than she… and she could be better.

She looked down at the pendant again and watched it turn a bright yellow.

Of course. All she had to do was fix herself.

She frowned. But then… why did he get her so mad? If she was just feeling inferior… why did the gift of the pendant make her so mad that she had slapped him and punched him over and over? What set her on edge? Feeling inferior was a part of it, yes, but surely there was something else…

She raised her fingers to her lips and began biting her nails.

Okay… the pendant was meant to give her certainty. It would tell her, without fail, who her one true love was. You couldn't get more certain than that. Of course, it wasn't like she needed the pendant to know that she didn't love Dean. She knew it wasn't real… just like she knew her feelings for Harry were.

Dean. Perhaps the secret lay with him. She allowed herself to get together with him but wouldn't allow herself to be with Harry. Why? It wasn't just that she was a mess… there was something more…

Okay. Look at it logically. That's what Hermione would do. Okay. Dean. Why did she get together with Dean? Sure, he was handsome… she was attracted to him a little… but what else? What made him different from Harry that she was able to choose him?

He was tall, dark, handsome, smart enough, kind enough… but he was nothing special was he? Why wasn't he? What made him 'not a special' as Harry? Harry was also kind and handsome and smart and brave…

Brave. He was brave. Could that be it?

And then Ginny thought back to Harry lying cold and ashen on the hospital bed. Harry… almost dead. She thought back to him battling the basilisk, falling off the broom, succumbing to dementors… and nearly dying at the hands of Lord Voldemort. He did all these things because he so often found himself in the role of Hero… an agent of light and order facing off against the forces of darkness and evil. And he did these things willingly, sometimes seeking them out himself. He was a hero. He was brave.

And she wasn't.

She realized that she would gladly do all of those things herself. If she had to, she would face dementors and basilisks and bludgers and spiders and all the Voldemorts in the world if it would bring a better world about. She would let herself die if it meant her loved ones could survive… just as Harry would do.

But she couldn't face a world without Harry Potter.

She felt something hot slide down her cheek. She hadn't realized she was crying.

Perhaps if she wasn't in love with him… perhaps if she didn't feel so much for him… perhaps then she could deal with his death. Perhaps then she would not hurt so much when he died. Because, no matter how hard he tried… he would die. Someday, some spell is going to fail him. Someday, some Dementor is going to kill him. Someday, Lord Voldemort might tear him apart.

If she didn't love him… perhaps she could handle that and move on.

Dean would never do anything like that. Dean was safe and bland. He wasn't a hero… and he never would be. Perhaps if she could force herself to love him, even a little, then she could have control over her life. If she died then… who cared right? Dean would find someone else. But if she got together with Harry and Harry died? How could she handle that? All the control she had over her life would be gone… shattered…

Control. That was it, wasn't it?

The sun winked out over the horizon and, slowly, the stars came out and blanketed the world in their presence. The moon hung low and full, filling the night with a luminous glow that cast everything in an ethereal beauty.

Control. She needed it.

The pendant turned a deep green as she pondered the thought for a moment, and realized that she was getting to the truth of the matter at long last.

Control. She had never truly had it… and she was desperately searching for it… holding on to every illusion of control she could find.

She was the youngest daughter of a family full of accomplishments. Head boys, seekers, prefects, these roles filled her world ever since she was a child. She knew that the burden of expectation was upon her… and there were so many of them to fill. And so, growing up, she felt that she never had control over her life… true control… because the real force controlling her life was expectation; she had to do this, she had to do that, she had to fulfill this, she had to accomplish that…

How could she live like that?

She did not know it, but she had been fighting a battle with herself for so long now… a battle to control the outcome of her life, to control the direction of her path, to control the way she felt and thought about things.

Control. In trying to control so many expectations and aspirations, she never really had any control over anything, did she?

And then there was Harry, with his purity of soul and his ignorance of the world. Here was a boy who knew nothing of his destiny… nothing of his path. He chose his own. He controlled his life. He did not know anything… and so he chose to learn. He wasn't born a hero… he chose to be. He had control. And she loved him for it.

She smiled sadly. That's why she was angry with him, wasn't it? Control. She feared losing it… for in losing it, she might lose herself. How ironic it was that she never really had control in the first place?

She realized now that that was the source of her fears… of her terror. She remembered her first year in Hogwarts, the year of the Chamber of Secrets. Who had opened it? Her. Who had set loose the Basilisk on her friends? Her. Who had almost gotten Harry killed? Her.

And why? All because her actions weren't her own. Her actions, her thoughts, her talents, her memories… her self… all were usurped by that hideous presence in her mind… that taunting malevolent evil that was Tom Riddle. That was the price of losing control. That was the perfect example of it. If it wasn't for Harry…

The night was cold now, and she wrapped her robes tighter around herself. From the castle, she could her sounds of laughter and smell the succulent scent of roast pork. From beyond the Quiiditch pitch, from the forbidden forest that lined the grounds, came the sounds of birds as the fluttered, bats as they screeched, and centaurs as they pranced. The world was so alive around her.

If it wasn't for Harry she would have lost herself forever. And so, she had spent her life recovering from the Chamber by trying to control it so strictly, that nothing could affect it. But in doing that, in running from her fear, in running from her demons, in running from her emotions, she was losing herself… and she was losing the happiness that she so desperately sought.

Dean was the safe choice, and Harry was the wild card. Over the past year, starting with the summer, she had felt herself falling for Harry again, that secret part of humanity that craves happiness awoke within her, seeking a way to find the happiness that life with Harry promised. But that other side of her, that ugly fearful side, fought it. Scared by the uncertainty that Harry promised, she kissed Dean and chose him… and refused to let go of the certainty that Dean promised… the safety… the control.

And that was why she hated Harry… that was why she got so angry with him when he gave her the pendant. For the pendant, in all its truth and certainty, would have forced her to see that the choice she had made… the choice that promised control and certainty… was completely and utterly wrong.

She smiled. That was the joke wasn't it? That was that big cosmic practical joke that life had been playing on her since the Chamber. Ever since Riddle had taken her, she tried to live her life exercising as much control as she could… and in the end, she wasn't in control at all. In the end, she was the one being controlled… controlled by fear, controlled by the burden of expectations, controlled by selfishness, and controlled by ignorance.

And Harry, in offering her the pendant, had saved her again.

She swallowed and closed her eyes against the ever rising wind. She tucked the Veela pendant, now a bright orange, back into her robes. Yes, he had saved her. She was so angry with him for forcing the truth upon her, but now that she could see, now that her blinders of expectation and fear were being lifted… she couldn't be angry with him one bit.

For she understood now that control over what life gives you is false. There's no such thing. Life is wonderfully chaotic and uncontrollable, and those who seek to control it only lose themselves. No, control exists as a force coming from within you over the choices you make. That's where your control lies. You cannot control when the rain will fall on you… but you can control your decision to open an umbrella.

She opened her eyes and felt her heart begin to beat faster.

She couldn't control how others saw her… but she could control how she could feed those perceptions.

She stood up. The stars twinkled back at her as she gazed at them, heavenly in their appearance, eternal in their hope.

She couldn't control what people expected of her… but she could control how she met them.

Smiling a smile of radiant joy, she sat on the Firebolt. It pulsed with potential, powerful in its possibilities.

She couldn't control who she fell in love with… but she could control who she chose to be with.

She kicked off lightly from the hoop and soared toward the castle. It hid in its shadows, blanketing its secrets in the darkness of its mysteries.

She couldn't control when Harry would die… but she could control how she would spend her life with him.

As she stowed the Firebolt away in the broom-shed, she couldn't help but smile when she saw the bright golden ring that was attached to the bristles of the broom: a vibration dampener, supposedly to make the ride more comfortable. He was using it… her gift to him after she was so mean about Fleur. Somehow, the thought made her feel quite good.

She bent down and quietly picked up her fallen Clean Sweep. It was a good broom… not the newest, not the fastest, and still containing infinite expectations. But she loved it. She put it back gently in its place and smiled. Somehow… something was different. She felt lighter as she looked at it… as if the burden of those expectations were just… no more.

After squeezing the handle for just a moment, she strode out the door and up the pathway to the castle. There was something different about her… something new. She looked back at the Quidditch pitch behind her. She felt as if she were leaving a part off herself there in the goal post… a part of her that was dragging her entire life down into a pit of ruin.

Good riddance.

This was a new Ginny Weasley… a powerful Ginny Weasley. This was a renewed Ginny Weasley, filled with hope that somewhere there was a life she could live without sorrow or without fear. This was a Ginny Weasley who had a newfound control over her life. This was a Ginny Weasley who knew she had choices. This was a Ginny Weasley who could forget about Tom Riddle and expectations and death. All the possibilities were open to her now…

All she had to do was take them.

And take them she did.

As time passed through the halls of Hogwarts, so did this new Ginny. Where before people always saw her as feisty and strong, now they KNEW, without a doubt, that beneath her fiery exterior lay a Ginny who was stronger and more certain than ever before. She flitted through the halls on waves of choice, delighting in her newfound abilities and perceptions.

This was a happy Ginny… and a Ginny in love.

And as she practiced living her life under these new perceptions, it dawned on Ginny that she had yet to make that one final and ultimate act that would lead to her freedom from her old self. She had to break up with Dean and… and…

But still she couldn't. She had to keep building herself… keep learning.

And so she did some more. And as her happiness level grew, it became plain to see that her relationship with Dean was failing, falling under the unbearable weight of truth. Their breakup was inevitable.

And, one day, on the day that Harry Potter passed between Dean and Ginny (which she knew on some level), Ginny knew that the time had come. When she had asked Harry during Christmas what was happening to them, he had said they were growing up.

Well, now it was time to do exactly that.

And so, amidst the clutter of the Gryffindor common room, in sight of Hermione and Ron and Lavender and Cormac and Colin Creevey, Ginny Weasley unfettered the tethers of her soul and allowed her consciousness and her heart to accept the truth of life and happiness. And in the warm light of the fire, she broke up with Dean Thomas. There were no tears, no shouts, not fights… just the warm certainty of a choice being made rightly and properly.

And later that night, as she drifted off to sleep basking in the glow of her righteousness, she fished around in her nightstand for what she had hidden so very long ago. There, in the bottom, right next to a stolen bag of chocolate (for Ron didn't need to get any fatter, right?), she found what she was looking for: that small, purple wrapped birthday gift Harry had given her.

She smiled as she unwrapped it, lovingly peeling off the clumsy paper, and gasped as a bright silver watch tumbled out of the box. It wasn't a normal watch, for there were no numbers or lines on its face. The note accompanying it, in Harry's quite messy writing, said only one thing: say a name… any name.

She had an idea as to what it would do.

"Harry Potter," she whispered. In the dark shadows of her canopied bed, she smiled as the watch face was overcome by a swirling grey mist. And then the mist parted, and she was staring at the beautiful face of the Boy Who She Loved. In the background, she could see that he was sitting in a warm wooden house, and she thought she could see the shape of Horace Slughorn lurking. Under the picture, two words flashed at her: Hagrid's House.

She giggled.

And as she gently lay her head on her soft, soft pillow, she smiled and cupped the watch in her hands. She stared lovingly into Harry's face as he talked and laughed.

"Harry," she whispered.

And so she drifted off to sleep, clinging to the image of his emerald eyes and raven hair. And as she entered the world made of dreams and hopes, she knew that she would have to ask him out someday… she knew that she would have to tell him how she felt for him.

Maybe…

She yawned. In the watch, his eyes sparkled.

Maybe…

Her eyes closed, and her heart pulsed.

Maybe… after the Quidditch match.

Maybe then.

And so she slept, with a quiet soul and a hopeful heart. And amidst her dreams of Quaffles and broomsticks, Ginny Weasley had one thought repeating over and over and over again.

She was whole.

And she had hope.

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_A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed… now that finals are over, I should be able to write more regularly. Expect the next chapter in a few days hopefully. I may have to spend some time recovering…_

_P.s. if you guys remember your HBP timeline, you should be able to guess what's coming next…_


	7. Chapter 7: By the Light of the Sun

_A/N: A short one this time. This takes place during the "Sectum Sempra" chapter in HBP._

_P.S. Warning: Fluff ahead! _

_P.P.S. As always, thanks so much for all the lovely reviews. I do hope you guys like this one. _

CHAPTER 7: By the Light of the Sun 

Spring serves a purpose in this life… in this world.

There is a deep blue river that flows near a wide-open field that grows near a great stone castle. In this river lives a teeming ecosystem, so full of life and energy that to swim in it is to see a whole new world. On its banks grow a multitude of flowers of all colors, flowers that young Hogwarts students in love often pick to give their lovers. Further away from the river, a small grove of trees gives their shade to those weary enough to seek their shelter. It is beautiful and often called idyllic, and it is a constant reminder of the wonders the world has to offer.

But once a year, life seems to depart from this paradise. Once a year, the fish and insects and other strange creatures that dwell under the surface have to leave their homes and their shelter, forced away by an inhospitable ice. Once a year, the flowers that grow on the banks perish, forced down into the ground by the weight of a million snowflakes. And once a year, there is no shelter to be found under the trees, for the leaves that shade the tired and weary shrivel and fall… victims of icy winds and terrible, terrible cold.

Locked in winter's grip, the river becomes peaceful and cold… but lifeless.

And so it stays for days and weeks and months; it stays an icy graveyard, a cold and inhospitable landscape, bleak in its appearance and a reminder that everything and everyone dies. Those who brave the journey to its banks, straying from the warmth of the great stone castle, find nothing but ice and more ice… no more flowers, no more fish, and no more leaves. It is a place trapped in a prison of slumber.

But then spring comes and slowly, ever so slowly, wakes the world up once more.

As the temperatures rise, the ice that covers the river begins to crack and shift. The snow, inches thick, begins to melt and run, their waters flowing downwards to meet the ever-rising water of the river. And as the ice itself breaks apart to be swallowed in the warm rush of the newly freed river, it symbolizes hope… hope that everything changes and nothing, not pain, not ice, and not the darkness can last forever.

The trees, spurred on by the warm winds and sunlight, shake off the icy crystals that blanket their branches. In their place, new leaves begin to grow and the birds, long kept away from their homes, rebuild. In this, spring reminds us that renewal… rebirth… is not just possible, but a fact of life. And when nature or some other dark force strikes us down, we can rise again.

And when the ice and the snow clear, when the river and the water flows, and when the trees and their leaves nurture and protect, there is something that rises from the ground, blooming in vibrant colors and fragrant smells. The grass, the lilies, the roses… so many things spring to life where once there was none, pushing their way through hardship and adversity, fighting past darkness and cold, and triumphing over death to achieve an existence that was once only a dream… an existence that symbolizes growth and maturity and life.

Two souls have, separately, been to this river before. Two souls have drunk from her, inhaled the scents of her roses, swam in her confines, and rested under her trees. Two souls have seen this endless cycle of death and life over and over again, each lost in thoughts inscrutable to anyone else. Two souls have wandered down her length, each mired in their own struggles and hardships, lost in a tangle of confusion and despair.

Two souls, each distinct from each other, have seen what spring can do. And now, as spring reaches the zenith of her rebirthing of the world, two souls will meet under a banner of sunlit days to discover, for themselves, the true power that renewal and hope hold over darkness and despair… and to discover, for themselves, the true meaning of that most elusive of emotions, Love.

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Ginny Weasley streaked through the air, one arm gripping her broomstick tight and the other outstretched with rigid determination. She squinted in the glare of the sunlight, doggedly focused on that one, golden glint just meters away.

Her fingers trembled in anticipation. She almost had it…

Suddenly, a lithe blue-garbed form streaked in front of her, cutting her off from her goal. Cho Chang briefly looked back and scowled at Ginny before stretching her own arm out.

Ginny smiled grimly. A challenge, was it? Good… she longed to kick this girls sniveling little behind six ways to Friday. She gripped her broomstick tighter and leaned forward, urging it faster. She couldn't match Cho's speed for very long… but she definitely had the advantage of being the better flyer.

On they sped after the Snitch, each splitting their attention between the bright golden ball and each other. The Snitch flittered and danced as it mercilessly taunted the two girls, twisting firs this way then the other.

Cho was getting closer. She swiped at the Snitch and missed. Below them, a Ravenclaw chaser had scored an all important goal, cutting into the score line by ten points.

Ginny frowned now… this was getting too close. She had to end it now while the goal difference still favored Gryffindor's chances for the cup. "C'mon Ginny," she muttered. Harry would have had it by now…

She couldn't help thinking, peevishly, that Cho would have loved it if Harry were here, wouldn't she? Oh yes… she'd abandon the chase for the Snitch and just try to rub up against him…

She blushed and shook that thought off. Focus…

Cho was getting closer again. This time, Ginny saw, she would get it if Ginny didn't do something.

So Ginny lay herself flat against the broomstick now, clearing her mind of every thought but one.

Faster.

With the wind whipping her hair back, cutting into her face with waves of force, Ginny barreled through the air and waited for just the right moment… just the right speed…

And finally she saw her chance.

With all the balance she could muster, Ginny leapt up onto her broomstick, one foot perched perilously on the front edge, the other one gently guiding the back part. She reached her hands out to steady herself for a moment…

And then she flung herself at Cho's broom.

Her momentum carried her over Cho's head and she landed gracefully on the front edge. Without looking back at Cho's surprised squeal, she then leapt forward again, the force of her leap pushing the broom handle down. She grabbed the Snitch in mid air with one desperate lunge.

As Cho's broom carried her down, Ginny's own Clean Sweep zoomed in to fill the space. With a smile, Ginny landed brightly on her own broom and raised her hand in triumph, the Snitch struggling to escape.

A massive roar rose up out of the crowd, and Ginny felt a warm rush blaze its way through her.

She'd done it.

But where was…

As her team rushed in to mob her, she sped through them and desperately scanned the crowd. There was Hermione beaming at Ron… there were Cormac and Lavender scowling at Ron… there was Professor McGonagall crying into Luna's shoulder…

Where was…

Seamus was there, Hannah Abbot, Parvati Patil…

Her feelings of elation ebbed away from her as she sank down to the ground.

He wasn't there.

He hadn't made it in time after all… even though he had promised her.

"Ginny! You were wonderful!" As she landed on the ground and pocketed the Snitch, Dean suddenly ran up to her and wrapped her up in a fierce hug. "You won it! You won it!"

She tried to shove him away, but he clung to her.

"Hey Ginny," he said. He had that hungry look in his eyes again. "Maybe…"

"No Dean," she said, her voice flat and still. "No."

And without waiting for his reply or for the rest of the team to come down, she stalked off into the changing room, all her triumph washed away by hurt and anger. She slammed the door behind her and it cut off the sounds of celebration ringing out on the pitch.

Gryffindor won. Hooray.

She angrily threw off her outer Quidditch robe and kicked it into the corner.

Why hadn't he come? He had promised her, hadn't he? He said that, sure, he had detention, but he would do anything and everything in his power to force Snape to let him out in time to celebrate with her… er… with them.

She sighed and continued to disrobe before hopping into the shower.

She supposed he really didn't want to after all, eh? Empty promises and abandoned hopes… was that all he could give her?

She closed her eyes as a gentle stream of hot water poured over her. She raised her hands and ran them through her hair, feeling the dirt and the grime wash away.

She opened her eyes.

What was wrong with her? She felt tears begin to sting her vision, and her breath hitched in her chest. She was being unfair again.

The water cascaded around her.

Yes… she was. Of course he didn't mean to not come. He wanted this more than anyone… even more than her.

She closed her eyes again and pictured his face… his bright green eyes that sparkled like the sea; his jagged scar, raw and powerful in the light; his smile, so gentle and kind that she felt nothing could harm her as long as he smiled at her…

No… if he could have… he would have come.

She opened her eyes and rubbed her face in the warm water.

She wasn't angry with him… not really. If she was angry at anything, it would be at the injustice of it all. He should have been the one snaring the Snitch. It was his place. Not hers. His. They should have been on the pitch together… the two of them… it should have been him caught up in the enthusiasm of winning… it should have been him, not Dean, who was so happy that he wanted to hug her and to… to…

She blushed furiously.

Yup. There it was. She had pictured that moment in her head so vividly over the past few weeks. That one moment of triumph when both she and Harry would have been so happy, that to proclaim their love for each other would have been the only natural thing to do.

She giggled and shut off the water.

As she began to dress, she lamented the numerous girly magazines she read in preparation for that moment. There really wasn't any "perfect" moment, was there? Nah… life was so unplottable… so chaotic… that it was foolish to try to pin all of one's hopes on these things.

And she was nothing if not foolish.

Fully dressed once again, she smiled to herself as she stepped out of the changing room.

Love wasn't like that. Feelings couldn't be plotted. There was no perfectly planned moment… the perfect time to tell someone how you feel about them is the moment you realize it is true.

But she already had made that realization… didn't she? Sure she did… she just kept denying it.

Perfect moment indeed.

She blushed again when she realized that the perfect moment would come the minute she saw him. Yeah… in front of all the other Gryffindors, she would walk calmly up to him and calmly ask him out.

Then they'd take it from there.

As she made her way up to the Gryffindor common room, where the party was to take place, she knew that he would get there eventually. And as for celebrating… well, they'd have plenty of time for that when he did.

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Half an hour later, the party in the common room was in full swing. Someone had managed to unearth a large "Gryffindor" banner and displayed it across the entire far wall. Red and gold streamers hung down the rest of the walls, catching the light streaming in through the tall windows. Someone had conjured up a cake, presumably Hermione seeing as it was entirely sugar free. But nobody cared… everyone was too caught up in raucous singing and joyous dancing, and the large silver cup was being passed around to each and every one in turn. Everybody was happy… happier than they had been in recent weeks.

But Ginny wasn't really paying attention.

She sat curled up in a big easy chair by the window and stared out at the vast hills and forests that lay below. As she tuned out the noise and the celebration and the smells of the food, she could almost hear the silence of the trees as they swayed in the wind; she could almost smell the fragrant pines and the rich oaks; she could almost feel the peace that one gets from sitting sheltered under the arms of a great tree.

Almost.

She smiled cordially at everyone who congratulated her, but waved them away when they tried to speak to her.

Her mouth felt coated in fungus. Her stomach clenched and unclenched with the regularity of a clock. She trembled and couldn't breathe for long, long moments. Agonizingly, she felt herself blushing every few seconds, like a baby who just realized that her arse was covered in… well…

She was scared out of her mind.

What was she thinking? She wasn't ready to face him yet, was she? Just because she won the cup for her team… what gave her the right to expect him to still be in… to still… well, to still like her? She had waited too long… hadn't she?

Curse her and her indecisiveness! She should have told him long ago… the second he gave her that Veela pendant! And now… now she bet it was too late. Wasn't it? Yeah… he had given up on her.

He wasn't there yet…

Where was he? Oho… maybe he had gone to comfort that whiny Cho Chang. Yeah, that was it, right? She had waited too long and he had lost patience with her. Besides, why would he wait for her anyway? He probably thought she was too young… too silly… too much like Ron with long hair…

At the moment that Ginny almost began to pull her hair out, Hermione Granger sat down in front of her. Ginny started and gave a little jerk, but quickly turned away. Hermione stared at her for a moment, her head cocked as she thoughtfully chewed on a piece of cake.

Ginny pursed her lips.

Hermione smiled. She reached over and gripped Ginny's knee. "He'll be here" was all she said. And with that, she leapt up to look for Ron.

Ginny leaned back in her chair and gazed out the window again.

He'll be here.

Stop being silly.

Breathe.

Focus.

She closed her eyes and took deep, cleansing breaths. She was being silly. She was being scared. But that wasn't her, right? She was through being scared.

As she felt her emotions and turbulent thoughts settle, she began to breathe much easier and think much clearer.

Harry was coming.

A peace came over her then… a peace born out of calm and control. It washed over her, draping her in a blanket of comfort.

He was coming.

She smiled in her reverie and opened her eyes. She would be at peace when he arrived, she promised herself that. There was no reason to be scared or frightened or nervous. There was no need at all.

It was just Harry…

It was just the one she loved.

And then Ginny did not need to hear the sudden rise in volume in the room. She did not need to hear Ron's sudden shout or Hermione's sudden squeal. She did not need to hear the portrait door opening or hear anybody screaming his name.

Through the tumult, through the party, through the chaos… she could feel him.

She closed her eyes and savored for a moment the sensation of Harry Potter stepping into her world. With a smile lingering on her lips, she then stood up and looked towards the portrait hole.

And there he was.

At that moment, everything fell away from her. All her nervousness, all her tension, all her confusion… all laid to rest, replaced by a blinding light of emotion that no darkness and no shadow could touch.

Harry was here.

She began to run to him, brushing past person after person and yet not feeling them at all.

And then she became aware of everything in the room, burning the image into her mind so as not to forget it as long as she lived. The light from the afternoon sun was bright and powerful; it streamed through the windows and shafts of dazzling potential, filling her world with radiance and beauty. There was Ron, a broad loopy smile of his face, himself turning to run towards his best friend. There was Hermione, a brilliant smile on her brilliant face, casting a knowing look at her. There was Romilda Vane, inching towards Harry…

And there was Harry…

At that moment, time stood still. To her, nothing moved, not the people around her, not the air they breathed, not the light playing on the walls… and it was only them, her and Harry. Nothing else mattered.

His eyes sought hers. They flashed with a brilliant dark fire born of a feeling deeper and greater than anything else in the world. They stirred in her a fierce rush of joy that rose form the very tips of her toes into the very depths of her eyes.

He began to reach for her.

She knew then what she would do. It was quite simple really… she would ask him out. That was all.

A great flame blazed within her, a burning flare of triumph and ecstasy that had nothing to do with Quidditch or cups and everything to do with hope and renewal, with passion and ardor, and with tenderness and devotion.

She knew what this feeling was… she had felt it from the moment she gazed into those deep green eyes.

Just ask him out.

She trembled and felt that she would fall at any moment, stumble away from the world and never be found again…

Just ask him out…

And then she did fall… right into his waiting arms.

Electricity poured through her, every fiber of her being came alive in a shock of longing and yearning. He was so real… so alive… so full…

And then, a light so primal and ancient filled her. She became aware then of the distance that stood between them… a gaping chasm of division forged by loneliness, by doubt, by humanity, and by confusion. But it did not matter.

As the fire of her love for him filled her, the world fell away. Her entire being became so unbearably light that she knew, then and forever, that all she had to do was lean in and that distance… that chasm… would be gone evermore.

And so she did… and the room, the world, the universe, and life itself held its breath in wonder and anticipation.

She kissed him.

And there was nothing else in the world. There were no more wars, no more birds, no more trees, no more people, no more hate, no more anger… there was just them. His lips were soft and moist. His touch was tender and compassionate. His soul filled her entire world, and she willingly lost herself in him for as long as she could.

And she knew then that all of her fear and all of her anger and all of her fatigue… they all had lost their power over her forever. She was complete now… she was whole. She would never let this go. Ever.

She kissed him.

She loved him.

After several long moments… or it might have been half an hour… or possibly several sunlit days… they broke apart.

Ginny felt tears begin to form, but she didn't care. He had seen her cry before for every sad thing. Let him see these tears for once.

When he smiled, she felt that she would burst. She felt so full… so much power. She smiled back and suddenly felt shy.

He glanced around them.

She didn't care. She didn't care about Ron, about Dean, about Romilda…

She didn't care.

And then he grinned down at her and gestured wordlessly out of the portrait hole. A long walk in the grounds seemed indicated, during which… if they had time… they might discuss the match.

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Harry Potter did not know what he was feeling.

As he and Ginny stepped through the portrait hole, the world seemed so alive… so sharply in focus that nothing and everything was out of place. The light was never this harsh or never this perfect. The shadows were never this bright or never this dark…

The hand he held was so soft and so tender in his clammy grip, and it was so warm and giving…

He turned to look shyly at the fiery figure beside him.

She stared back at him with eyes so deep and so rich that nothing could touch them.

Was this a dream?

He reached out and stroked her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin… at the way her eyes closed in pleasure and anticipation. Her lips parted.

Was this a dream?

He leaned in, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and honeyed, moist against his and electric to the touch. She tasted of life and love, and she smelled like summer.

She whimpered, just a bit, as he ran his hand through her hair.

He pulled back and she whimpered again.

She opened her eyes, and he felt that he would lose himself in their languid softness.

"So," he whispered. There was nobody else in the hall… just them and their shadows. "Does this mean we're together?"

She smirked and punched him, lightly, on the shoulder. "What do you think?" she purred.

He gulped.

"I… I thought so…"

She sighed happily, hooked her arm to his, and settled her head against his shoulder as they set off down the hall. Harry wondered again at this unexpected turn of events. He could feel her heart beat… he could hear every breath she took… she put most of her weight against him, and yet she weighed nothing at all…

He hugged her close.

"I love you," he said plainly.

"I love you too," she said softly.

As they stepped out into the courtyard, they were greeted by a warm current of air that caressed them and embraced them. The world was so new… so fresh… so…

"Eclectrickan." She said suddenly in a low voice.

"What?"

"An Eclectrickan." She looked up at him and smiled dazzlingly. "If I were a muggle, that's what I'd like to be. I've always been fascinated at how muggles can survive without magic… dad says that eclectrickans are the reasons muggles have such wonderful gadgets!"

Harry gave a long, loud laugh.

"Oh, Ginny," he said.

She scowled, just a bit. "What? What's so funny…"?

"They're called 'electricians', Ginny. And they don't exactly… cause… those things. They just… fix them."

She bit her lip and blushed a little. "Oh… okay." She settled against his shoulder again as they made their way down to the lake.

"What about you?"

"What?"

"What would you be?"

He wondered why they were having this conversation. He wanted to talk to her about them, about life… about…

Well, he wanted to kiss her again, really…

"Well, I suppose I'd like to be a… a… well, whatever you want me to be."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Cop-out. I'm serious Harry, what…?"

He shrugged. "I never really thought about it, Ginny," he said. "Why do you want to know anyway…?"

She cut him off by placing the tips of her fingers on his lips. "Because, Harry," she said patiently. "We've known each other for quite sometime now… but I want to know more. I want to know everything…"

She turned to face him and cupped his face with her hands. He saw a yearning hunger that surely reflected his own.

"Everything…"

He kissed her softly… gently…

"Don't worry Ginny," he whispered. "We have all the time in the world to find out these things…"

He pulled back and placed one palm fondly against her cheek.

"I promise to spend my whole life learning about you… a lifetime of sharing and living…"

He leaned in again…

"Oh my god," he moaned. "I can't stop kissing you…"

She sighed.

"Don't… don't stop…"

And they kissed again, there, as the light of the day soon edged closer to dusk. As they pulled back from each other, Harry noticed a single tear crawling down her face. But this was a tear he had never seen before… a lone solitary tear that symbolized joy and happiness, not pain and suffering.

He relished it.

And so they walked on down to the lake, each taking turns pointing out their favorite rock, their favorite tree, their favorite bird, their favorite cloud… and they lost themselves in each other's presence, yearning and learning from each other as only lovers could.

When they reached the lake, they sat side-by-side and stared out across the vast watery expanse. The sun, now a bright golden orange hovered just above the surface, and it was larger than either of them had ever seen before.

The warm spring winds gave way to the cool night air, and Harry shuddered as Ginny laid her head on his shoulder.

"When did you know?" she said plaintively.

"Know what?"

"That you loved me."

He looked at her in mock amazement.

"Do I love you?"

She punched him again. "Of course you do."

He smiled and kissed her tenderly. "Of course I do."

Her eyes were closed and her lips were hungry.

"Say it," she whispered when they pulled apart. "Say it again and again and again and don's stop until the world ends…"

"I love you," he said hungrily as he kissed her on her nose, on her cheek, on her lips, on her forehead, on her hair… "I love you, I love you, I love you… and I will keep loving you until there are no more stars in the sky, until the earth passes into a sea of nothingness, and until my soul gets ripped apart into a million atoms. And then I will find a way to love you again…"

"Oh god," she whispered in between kisses. "We're not going to become one of those super mushy couples who gross everyone out, are we?"

He chuckled. "God… I hope so…"

She giggled. She pulled away from him for a moment and stared deep into his eyes. This was right, he felt. Nothing could ever destroy this… here… what they have. Nothing could come between them. He would never let this go.

"Harry," she whispered. "I love you so much. With every ounce of my soul, I promise to love you and keep loving you until the concept itself ceases to exist. I will never leave you. And I will never fail you."

He hugged her close then as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"That day at the station," he whispered.

"What?" she said dreamily.

"That day in the station… when you were ten and I was eleven. Do you remember?"

"Yes…"

"I think I knew on some level. I think I knew."

She smiled up at him shyly.

"And when I heard you singing that night by the lake over the summer… I may not have known for sure… but my heart did. I just didn't listen."

She stroked his cheek.

"Wanna know when I fell for you?" she said softly.

"When?"

His heart pounded as she licked her lips and a hungry expression entered her eyes. "Why don't you guess…"

And then she was kissing him.

He drew his arms around her and, as one, they stretched out onto the soft, soft grass.

And they were done talking.

High above, the stars twinkled into existence, bringing with them a song of passion and fire… a song that nobody could hear but everybody could feel. It was a song of birth and of love, of renewal and of hope, of Harry and of Ginny…

And as the world fell once again into the grip of sleep and dreams, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley paid no heed to anything but each other, and the two hearts that slowly, and irrevocably, beat as one.

And, strapped around Ginny's slender neck, the Veela Pendant began to glow a bright fiery red, symbolizing what they had known all along. It blazed in truth and it blazed in certainty, and it would stay red forever and ever, whether they were together or not.

But neither of them paid attention to it.

Neither of them had to.


End file.
